


The Doctor Is In

by Tando



Series: Birds of a Feather [2]
Category: Batman (1966), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham Asylum (Video Games), Batman: Assault On Arkham, Batman: The Animated Series, Batman: The Brave and the Bold, Gotham - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arkham Asylum, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, D-List Villains, F/M, Gen, Gotham City - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, Mystery, Psychiatric Procedural, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tando/pseuds/Tando
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. K is the new psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum with a slippery past and a mastery of analyzing people, especially super criminals. While she enjoys the thrill of interviewing the patients, her past soon comes back to track her down and drag her back into the dirt. Hey, it takes one to know one, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Madhouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first real introduction to Batman was a cartoon called "Batman: The Brave and the Bold", which showed both A and D-list villains that I enjoyed equally. After showing interest in the franchise, my father showed me the '89 movie and episodes of the '60s show, on which he'd grown up on. Now older, and having been exposed to the more darker elements of Batman, I enjoy both the modern depiction of Batman while still hold respect for his roots and alternate variations. I hope fans of both sides will find something to enjoy in "The Doctor Is In".

   “Welcome to Arkham Asylum.” Dr. Leland introduces, as she and I walk through to the main courtyard, “We’re very glad you could join us here at the asylum, you have no idea how badly we’re in need of new doctors.”

“Not a problem Dr. Leland, I’m here to help.” I tell her straightforwardly, clutching my travel bag as the taxi that brought me in hurriedly speeds off.

“It’s certainly a surprise that someone of your...resume would decide to take a job as a psychiatrist.” she comments.

If I was her I’d agree. She’s clearly not very enthused to be here, but her well-trimmed short hair, designer glasses and small but classy earrings suggest that she enjoys the generous pay the doctors receive.

“Well, originally, I tried running a private practice in the city, but I guess no one in Gotham is interested in therapy.”

We arrive at the main gate. Two large security guards wave us in, while we’re eyed by the four in the two parallel watchtowers.

She looks at her clipboard, “Yes, well, uhm...Dr. Kawa...Dr. Kawaca…”

“Dr. Kawacatoose, but most people just refer to me as Dr. K. Much easier.”

“Yes, of course, Dr. K. Well, since the asylum is currently heavily under-staffed at the moment, I’ll be your supervisor. You have read about the asylum’s special arrangements for our psychiatrists, correct?” she asks.

I nod, brushing my long brown hair out of my face as I look up at the daunting Arkham Manor, “All of the doctors are to be residing in Arkham full time. I know in my contract I get every other weekend off but otherwise, I’m here.”

She unhinges something from her clipboard and hands it to me. It’s my security keycard, with my full name and an ID picture to match.

We walk up the steps of Arkham Manor, where we must once again pass through security. Once we’re in the manor, however, the atmosphere changes completely. The building is warmly lit, with shiny hardwood floors and portraits of various doctors and asylum directors.

“You’re room is on the third floor. I’m sorry to have to bring you on right away, but you’ll be seeing your first patient in about half an hour. His file is in your room, here’s your key.” she hands me a bronze-colored key, “I’ll meet you in the Penitentiary in that time. Don’t worry, this one’s an easy one, totally harmless.”

I try my best not to frown, I was hoping for something more of a challenge, “That’s fine. Thank you, Dr. Leland.”

I carry my bag up to my the third floor, find my room and open it with the key. It’s pretty standard fair, a bed, desk, lamp, wooden dresser and a window with a view of the asylum. The moon shines brightly as it peeks just slightly over the asylum’s tallest building, which I can only assume is Intensive Treatment, where I should really be working. I check my watch and figure I can do some quick unpacking before heading to the Penitentiary to meet Dr. Leland. After I’m finished,  I grab the patient file on the windowsill:

Patient Name: Charles “Chuck” Brown former alias “Kite Man”

Age: 64

Sentence Term: Life Sentence

Previous Diagnostics: Minor OCD, possible PTSD

Additional Notes: one of Arkham’s first patients, already served forty straight years at Arkham, physically harmless, obsession with kites, possible childhood trauma

   I read through the file as I exit my room and leave for the Penitentiary. The bright signs at every building entrance make it easy to find it and I also find Dr. Leland waiting for me at the entrance,

“Ah, good, you’re here. I assume you’ve read your patient file?” she asks.

“Yes, I have.” I respond systematically.

“Good. Now, I have to warn you, what you’re about to witness is some of Gotham’s most dangerous criminals. They’ll try to scare you, but you have to try your best to remain calm.”

I chuckle, “Dr. Leland, if you read my resume, then you should know that these criminals will not intimidate me in the slightest.”

“True, true. Just...trying to be careful. We’ve lost a lot of doctors because we weren’t careful enough.” she warns me as we show our keycards to the three guards blocking the entrance, “A couple of years ago we made the mistake of letting an intern interview a high-security patient before she was ready. The results were, rather tragic.”

“I don’t suppose you’re referring to Harley Quinn, are you?” I ask.

She turns around in surprise, “I, I was actually. I use to work with Dr. Quinzel before the incident. How did you guess?”

“It was just that, a guess.”

Beyond the entrance hallway we are already greeted with the screaming, wailing, and moaning of the patients. Patients in their cells scratch and pound at the glass separating them and the bleak hallway we walk through. I briefly glance over at each prisoner, most of them gangly looking men in their twenties to forties.

“You’re taking this very well.” Dr. Leland examines, as we quickly walk past the cells, her heels making loud clacking noises against the sterile tiled floor.

“Like I said, not in the slightest.” I remind her, happy I’d chosen to wear flats so my feet movements are relatively silent.

We make our way past them to an enclosed examination room, which contains the door to the interviewing room. Through what I suspect is one-way mirror glass, an older man sits in a chair on one side of the room, farthest from the door. A security guard is standing by the entrance, and when he sees us, moves out of the way and gets out a key to unlock it,

“He’s all yours.”

With a *click*, the door unlocks and slowly creaks open. I walk into the small room as the door is quickly shut behind me. Placing the file on the table, I sit down in the empty chair opposite of him,

“Hello Mr. Brown, I’m your new psychiatrist, Dr. Natalie Kawacatoose, but please, call me Dr. K.”

He extends his right hand, “Pleased to meet you miss.”

I hesitate for a moment, examining his posture. His smile is genuine, his shoulders are relaxed, and his other hand is also on the table, calm and not balled into a fist. Determining that he’s not going to try to take me down the moment I grasp his hand, and take his handshake, smiling. At least he’s polite.

“I wasn’t expecting a new psychiatrist. What happened to Dr. Andries?” he asks.

“I’m not sure.” I admit, establishing my honest truth policy, “I’ll have to ask.”

He nods, “Oh, doctors come and go here pretty often. I can understand why they wouldn’t want to stay, this place can get pretty bleak.”

He’s talkative, that’s good, makes getting information out of him much easier.

“Really? Because, I haven’t been here long, in fact, you’re my first patient.” It’s honest, but it also establishes a false sense of vulnerability.

He smiles, “Oh, well, welcome. I hope the patients haven’t done anything unorderly to upset you. They can get rather rowdy, especially the younger ones.”

I grin, seeing a good opportunity to engage in disarming casual conversation, “Well, I was given quite the welcome. The patients by the entrance hall are quite vocal, but otherwise no, I haven’t had much interaction with the patients.”

“Well, you’re just starting out, so I doubt they’ll give you anyone really troubling, but if you do continue your career here, if you’re ever asked to treat Victor Zsasz, or the Joker, or anyone in Intensive Treatment, don’t. They always aim to hurt their psychiatrists.”

“Thank you for your advice Mr. Brown. Trust me, I’m a Gotham native myself, so I’m well aware of their reputations.”

“You grew up in Gotham City?” he asks, “I did too, although, from what I can guess, that was many years before you.”

“Oh, what was Gotham like when you were growing up?” I ask, time to get to the questions.

“Very different, I can tell you that.” he begins, “Things weren’t so dark, they were much brighter. Of course we still had crime, but it was more wicked than evil. Not too many people were actually killed, it was more of a thrill-seeking sort of thing. Then the murderers and the psychopaths started coming in and giving criminals a bad name. But by then, I was already locked up, so, I didn’t see all that madness first-hand.”

I fold my hands together and lean in to show I’m listen intently, “Was that your reason for going into crime? Thrill-seeking?”

“...partially. Mostly I did it for the money and to get my brother out of jail. You see, I was a hang-glider pilot, and I gave hang-gliding tours around Gotham City, back when there was still tourism. But then the tourists stopped coming, and I was out of business. I heard through a friend about the whole professional criminal deal, and you’d always hear on the news about some criminal being caught by the Caped Crusader and the Boy Wonder.”

“You mean Batman and Robin?” I ask, slightly confused by the name switch-up.

“Yeah, that’s what the news announcers always called them back then. Gave a sort of dramatic effect I guess. Gee, I remember when Batman was some out-of-shape guy in a fabric suit. Seemed scary at the time, but the Batman you hear about nowadays sounds horrifying.”

“Were you apprehended by Batman?” I inquire, even though I already know the answer. Gives him an opportunity to divulge more information.

“Mhm, I remember. I’d just broken my brother and several other guys out of the local jail. You see, my brother was falsely accused of embezzling money by his boss, and I’d already become the Kite Man to rob a couple of banks to make ends meet. I broke him out, but I didn’t mean to break those other guys out. It was just sort of in the moment, since they were all in one large holding cell. But then Batman came in with his own kite. He took me down and turned me in, just like he always does.”

“You’ve never tried to escape?”

He shakes his head, “Nope. I got what I wanted, my brother got away, and he sends letters to me every now and then. They deemed me criminally insane and sentenced me to life in prison. I understand that nowadays that wouldn’t happen unless I’d killed somebody, but you gotta understand that times were different then. People had went away for life for much lesser things than what I’d done.”

The door opens and the security guard gives me the signal to wrap things up. Mr. Brown sees him give the signal as well,

“Ah, alright Mr. Cash. We’ll be done in a minute.” he tells him cheerfully, “Dr. K, it’s been such a pleasure meeting you. I hope you stay on longer than most of the doctors here do, you’re much more enthusiastic than most of them and it’s very refreshing. Next week, I presume?”

I smile, “Yes, next week it is.”

I exit the room as the security guard walks in to escort Mr. Brown back to his cell. Dr. Leland walks over to me,

“How was it?”

“Alright. On the outset, he seems pleasant enough, almost enough to think he’s sane. But there’s something off about him. He speaks far too casually about robbing banks, and it clearly wasn’t a traumatic experience for him. He doesn’t think he’s killed anybody even though I can suspect with his combined robberies and prison breakout he probably indirectly killed at least several people. Overall though, the file is correct, he’s harmless.”

She tilts her head in surprise, “Wow, for a first time analysis you really have his personality pinned down. This must be easy for you, no?”

I smile and raise and eyebrow, “Too easy.” 


	2. If You're So Smart, Why Aren't You Rich?

   “Very impressive, doctor.” a low, accented voice congratulates as I step out of the patient interview room.

I look up and see next to Dr. Leland is a stiff, stout woman with sharp glasses, “You are the new psychiatrist, yes? My name is Dr. Whistler, and I am the head of the research department here at Arkham.”

“Pleased to meet you Dr. Whistler.” I greet her politely, seeing how her title most likely makes her my boss's boss.

“I’m interested in the work you’ll provide us here at the asylum.” she tells me as we begin to tread deeper into the asylum, “I understand your previous line of work was a little more...action-oriented, shall we say?”

I nod, “It wasn’t what I had in mind. I’d originally gone to school to become a psychiatrist, but life had other plans. Now that I’ve retired, I can finally put my degree to use.”

We pass by another security checkpoint, Dr. Whistler starring unfailingly forward,

“I’m taking you to the maximum security sector of the Penitentiary.”

Dr. Leland looks up in surprise, “Uhm, Gretchen, you are aware that this is Dr. K’s first day on the job-”

“I want to see if she has guts, Joan.” she replies coldly.

The door opens to another long corridor of cells, these ones much smaller than the previous ones. Compared to the last cell block, this one is relatively quieter. There’s a guard between every cell, and the floor panels are clear glass with electrical wiring running underneath, suggesting that it can be used to shock the patients.

One patient, a bald-headed man with grotesque scars all over his body, immediately jumps up to the front of his cell and presses himself against the glass, “Oh, you poor, poor, zombies...soon you will all be liberated.”

“Do not respond to the patients taunts, unless they are your patient you have no buisness with them.” Dr. Whistler instructs me, as we walk past the man’s cell.

“Victor Zsasz...why is he posted so close to the entrance? And why isn’t he in Intensive Treatment?” I ask, doing my best to ignore the stares of the patients we pass.

“That is a very good question, but that is also none of my business. If you are truly concerned I suggest you take it up with the asylum’s director.”

I might just do that.

As we walk through the asylum, I can’t help but stare at some of the inmates. After all, these are the famous criminals you always hear about on the news.

Suddenly a rat runs out from in between a grate and scampers right in front of our feet, before disappearing into a small chink in the wall,

“Ah!” Dr. Leland screams, jumping back.

“Ratcatcher!” Dr. Whistler proclaims, she stamps over to a nearby guard, “Where is he posted?”

“Toward the end of the hall, second to last cell on the right.” the guard responds.

She snarls before charging off, Dr. Leland and I trying to keep up. We reach the end of the hall to find a sniveling man with rat-like features chuckling in the corner of his cell,

“Did one of my friends disturb you?”

“Mr. Flannegan, you know the rule about bringing rats into the asylum!” Dr. Whistler disciplines him, accusingly pointing a finger at him, “Release them at once!”

A rat runs out from under his bed, up his body and into his hands, “But doctor, I simply found these fellows, I didn’t invite them. And besides, it gets so lonely in here.”

“Guards, seize Mr. Flannegan, put him in isolation.” she orders.

Two guards surround his cell as the glass panel slides open. They grab Ratcatcher by both arms and drag him away,

“They’ll still find me in isolation. You can’t keep me away from my friends.”

I watch as the guards carry him away. Dr. Whistler looks over at me. She’s evaluating me, obviously, but I’m also evaluating her. She’s been working here at the asylum for a long time, perhaps longer than anyone else. From the way she briefly glances at each and every patient we pass, it’s apparent she’s had to work with all of them at one point, she’s probably the one who interviews all the high-profile patients. And from that display, she clearly has some sort of personal grudge against Ratcatcher, or maybe she has musophobia (fear of mice/rats).

“You two stay here, I’m going to speak with the head guard about this vermin problem.” she tells us, before firmly marching off.

“Gee, that was harsh.” says the patient in the next cell. He raises his eyes from his book and spots Dr. Leland and I, “Say, is this my new doctor?”

“No Nigma, we’re still looking for a suitable doctor that can tolerate your...antics.”

Didn’t Dr. Whistler just say to not converse with patients unless they were assigned to us?

“It’s simply that none of them were intelligent enough to appreciate my genius. Ah well, the search goes on. While you wait for your idiot boss to return, how about a simple, elementary riddle? Riddle me this, what comes first, chicken or egg?”

“Chicken.” I mumble under my breath.

He puts his small pocketbook away and calmly strolls up to the glass, hands crossed behind his back, “...did you say something? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Chicken comes first in the dictionary. You weren’t referring to the philosophical question, since you didn’t use the when referring to either the chicken or the egg.”

“So you do have a brain. Pencil me in for next week...I look forward to it.”

“She’s not your doctor Nigma.” Dr. Leland counters, annoyed.

“I don’t see why not.” Dr. Whistler interrupts, walking back to meet us, “Nobody else is willing to take Mr. Nigma on as a patient, and if Dr. K is up to the task, we could arrange to have her interview him sometime this week.”

I hesitate, was Dr. Whistler just testing me? Leaving me alone with access to the patients to see how I’d react to them? And is Dr. Leland in on this? Truth be told, even I didn’t expect to have such a high-profile patient this soon. But then again, the Riddler isn’t exactly a physical threat, maybe Dr. Whistler and Leland are telling the truth, maybe he is just that irritating. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re trying to intentionally force him on me,

“Alright, I’ll take him on.” I decide aloud.

We start walking back when another patient calls out, “Good luck with him doc! We can barely stand him in here!”

Dr. Leland and I separate from Dr. Whistler who heads back to her office. She looks at her clipboard,

“Alright, so, I need you to interview one more patient today, here’s the file.”

She hands me another thin file, and I open it,

Patient Name: Val Kaliban alias “Spook”

Age: 37

Sentence: 70 years (3 served, sentence extended due to breakout attempts)

Previous Diagnostics: Schizophrenia, Severe Depression, possible other Delusional Disorder

Additional Notes: master hypnotist, escape artist, believes himself to be a ghost, aims to convince others he is a ghost, commonly attempts to escape the asylum

“Didn’t this guy actually pass away recently?” I ask, recalling hearing about a similar person who took the Gotham mayor hostage.

She shakes her head, “That was Spook II, similar modus operandi, different person.”

We return to the same patient interview room, where a tall man shrouded in shadows sits in the patients’ chair. I can hear the guard cautiously close the door behind me as I sit in the opposite chair,

“Well, shall we begin? I’m Dr. K, your new psychi-”

“I know who you are.” the man interrupts harshly.

I look up and see that one of the light bulbs is out, causing the darkness to obscure my vision of Mr. Kaliban, “That light wasn’t out before, and I was just here.”

“Oh really?” he asks.

Just then, another light goes out behind me, creating a popping noise before shutting off completely. Mr. Kaliban moves his face out of the shadows ever so slightly, so that the fluorescent light gives off a faint outline of his long, bony face,

“Tell me, doctor, do you believe in ghosts?”

All the lights in the room go out at once, leaving me in total darkness. I lift myself out of my chair, my hands gripping the table for support. The lights flash on again, to reveal who I can safely assume is Val Kaliban in a long, dark cloak, standing upright, a sickly thin hand tapping his finger on the metal table. Upon slowly sliding his hand off of the table, he raises both arms in the air, causing himself to levitate off of the ground, the table and chairs being pushed away from him by some ungodly force.

“I am the ghost of Val Kaliban.” he declares, in a distorted voice, “I am, Spook.”


	3. The Underdwellers

   "Mr. Kaliban, would you please sit down?" I ask him, making my voice a little louder to match his.

"I will not!" he declares, clenching his bony hand into a fist.

Slowly, I begin to make my way around the table separating us, "Mr. Kaliban, what do you want?"

The lights above begin flickering again, more rapidly this time, and behind me the door rattles violently. Then, the lights begin shattering, I slide under the table and cover my head as the shards crash to the floor. The door finally bursts open and the security guard rushes in,

"Dr. K, are you alright?" he grabs my arm just as the last shards hit the ground.

I'm surprised he already knows me by name, "I'm fine, thank you."

We look around, Mr. Kaliban's vanished.

"Ugh, not again." he pulls out his walky-talky, "We've got an escaped patient in the Penitentiary, Cell Block B."

I walk over to where Mr. Kaliban just was. I lay my hands on his chair. It's warm, so mark one against him being an actual ghost.

I start walking back, when my foot catches onto a very thin string, nearly causing me to trip,

"What?"

I bend down and pick up the string. Upon reaching the floor, I realize that there are several strings lying on the ground, and even some that lead up to the ceiling. These must be what made Mr. Kaliban float in the air. The strings all seem to be pointing to the right, so they must have detached from him when he made a run for it. I follow the string and it leads me to a plain wall on the right side of the room. The door was locked when we were both in the room, and even if he had escaped through there, the security guard outside would have noticed. I start feeling around the wall until I find a slightly loose tile and push on it. The entire wall pushes back and slides away to reveal a dark staircase. I look behind me and see nobody's there. The smart thing would be to go and find a security guard to report this. I look outside and see the security guard is no where to be found. I turn back around into the office, where the staircase still sits, waiting. Would it be appropriate for me to investigate without a security guard present? I roll up one of my sleeves and carefully take my first step down. With no equipment or weapons, there's no way for me to defend myself, but it's not like I'm not already taking a risk by investigating by myself. I'm also trusting there's no traps here, because if Mr. Kaliban escaped down here so quickly and without much noise, there couldn't be any obstacles in his way. I slowly crawl deeper down the corridor, untrusting of every step. I soon begin to see a faint green glow at the end of the staircase, along with a pool of liquid. I get my first whiff of sewer stench, and my stomach and throat curl back in disgust. My foot hits the pool of liquid, soaking my shoe and giving my foot an uncomfortably damp feeling.

I look around, and see that yes, I am in the sewer passageways below the asylum. The small puddle I stepped in models as an example of the entire passageway floor that is either damp or housing puddles of various shapes and sizes. There are eerie green lights hanging from the equally damp stone walls, so at least I can watch my step. I begin walking down the path, keeping an eye out for any sign of Mr. Kaliban. Along the walls are various works of graffiti, similar to the one’s found in Gotham City. “HA HA HA” written in messily applied green paint and similarly green and messy question marks are among the few of the illustrations included. Mr. Kaliban certainly isn’t the only person who’s been using these passageways. These must be how so many Arkham patients slip in and out of the asylum so often. It’s really strange that the faculty hasn’t discovered this place yet.

There’s a turn coming up, and on the wall in the reflection of the green lanterns, I can see a shadow hunched over in the corner. I brace myself against the wall, and peer around the corner to see Mr. Kaliban hunched over a table full of scattered gadgets and mechanisms. This must be where he stashes all of his equipment.

He looks behind his shoulder and I swap back into my hiding space, hoping he didn’t see me.

Seeing his shadow played against the wall, he doesn’t move from his spot, but grunts and continues looking over his table. I know now’s the time to strike.

I leap from behind the corner, and charge towards him, grabbing his neck and slamming it onto the table. There’s a *pfffff* noise and the inflatable effigy I thought to be Mr. Kaliban falls to the ground, deflated.

Someone knocks me on the back, knocking me to the ground. A sharp pain sears through my upper back as I realize I’ve been hit with a wooden board. I turn around to see the real Mr. Kaliban in his Spook costume,

“We can’t have you revealing our little secret.” he declares, lifting up the board for another swing.

I scramble out of the way just in time as the board comes down and hits the stone floor, splashing spare bits of water everywhere.

I run over behind the table, and notice on it, a wrench lies among the clutter. I grab it, swinging it around once to brandish it. Spook swings with his board sideways, and I duck, as the board collides with the wall. I use this opportunity to attack, knocking him across the chest with the wrench. It sends him flying, hitting the wall and sliding to the ground.

Wrench still in hand, I cautiously approach Mr. Kaliban. I get close enough to him to reach out and remove his hood, revealing the skeletal features of Mr. Kaliban.

Footsteps echo along the sewer corridor, followed by flashlights and yelling. It must be the security guards,

“Dr. K?! Are you here?!” one of them calls out.

I huddle myself into the corner farthest away from Mr. Kaliban, “I’m here!” I call out.

The guards turn the corner, and rush to my aid.

“Oh, thank goodness.” I coo, “I thought you were one of them.”

They spot the wrench in my hand, as well as Mr. Kaliban lying unconscious on the floor. The security guard that’d been watching my interview puts a hand on my shoulder, “What happened?”

I contemplate whether working up a tear or two would be too much as I begin to sell my story, “He came back and kidnapped me, dragged me here. He was gonna kill me, he beat me with that wooden board. I had to defend myself, but...but I was so scared!”

“It’s alright doctor. Everything’s gonna be okay.” the security guard assures me, helping me back onto my feet.

He escorts me back through the passageway to the asylum. I catch a glimpse of the name-tag on his uniform: Aaron Cash. I should remember that name, he’s very considerate for a police officer.

“You know, thanks to you we’ve discovered this place.” Mr. Cash comments as we begin to ascend the stairs leading back to the interview room.

“Anything I can do to help, officer.” I reply, keeping my voice innocent and pleasant.

“Once we get this place locked down, you’re gonna see prisoners escape a lot less often.” he continues, “You deserve a promotion.”

I can’t help but smile, “It’s promotion enough to know I’m safe.”

We make it back up the the asylum where Dr. Whistler and Dr. Leland are waiting with more security guards.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright.” Dr. Leland proclaims, running in to hug me.

Dr. Whistler crosses her arms and smiles, “Some first day, am I right?”

“It has its ups and downs.” I say as Dr. Leland releases me from her hug.

Just then, two more security guard come running up from the staircase, “You guys! We found that the sewer passageways leads to the Gotham Sewer System.”

Mr. Cash turns around to address them, “What about Kaliban?”

“I left two of my guys to watch him, but when the rest of them got back, they were knocked out and Kaliban’d disappeared!”

There’s a collective gasp in the room. Mr. Cash furrows his brow, he’s clearly a senior officer whom the others look up to, “Continue the search for Kaliban. In the meantime, seal off the exit leading into the Gotham Sewer System. We can’t risk anymore of these guys getting out.”

Two security guards tentatively escort the doctors and I out of the interview room.

“Well, what now?” I ask them.

“They’re putting us on lockdown in the manor for the rest of the night.” Dr. Whistler explains.

“With Mr. Kaliban on the loose? Shouldn’t they send us home?”

She shakes her head, “No. These kinds of things happen far too often to send everyone home for every instance.”

Gee, it’s really that bad?

We’re escorted out of the Penitentiary, and through the courtyard. I look up over the hill at the Intensive Treatment building. The sky is dark and partly cloudy, but on the rooftop, I catch a faint glimpse of a dark figure in a cloak, just for a brief second. Then a cloud passes, and the figure has vanished. **  
**


	4. Birds of a Feather

   I've just returned to my room when the phone rings.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Natalie? It's Amanda, I was just calling to ask how you're settling into your new job."

I lean back on my bed, "Amanda, you never call unless you need a favor, cut to the chase."

She chuckles, "You know me well."

"But you are aware that I'm not allowed to leave the island while on duty?" I ask, as I walk over and lock my room door.

"That's why I need you for the job." she explains, "Do you still have your weapons?"

I pull out my briefcase from under the bed. Opening it to reveal my neatly folded clothes, I reach under the sleeve and pull out a small silver parcel. Placing the parcel on the bed, I put my right index finger on the fingerprint identifier and a bright blue light scans over it before the parcel lock snaps open.

"You confiscated my daggers after I completed my last assignment. Otherwise I have everything else." I tell her, looking over the contents, "And you know the daggers are the most important part."

"I'm aware. I'm sending you the daggers right now as we speak."

I pick up the mask hanging on the small hook on the hood of the case, feeling the smooth fabric in my hands, "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"I see you've discovered the secret passageways those criminals have been using as a revolving door." she says coldly, "Now that their get-out-of-jail free card is gone, they're conspiring a mass takeover of the asylum so that they can rebuild it."

"And you want me to stop it?"

"No." her tone is authoritative, business-like, "A takeover of Arkham can only be stopped by one person..."

"Batman." I realize.

"Yes, and this will be the perfect opportunity for us to finally nail him down once and for all."

My brain mentally stops for a moment, “Wait...you don’t want me to take him out do you?”

“Heavens no, he’s far too useful.” Amanda clarifies, “I just need you to get a tracker on him, the way you do everyone else.”

I reach under the neatly folded outfit taking up most of the room of the parcel and feel around until my fingers find a rounded glass vial. I take it out and examine it,

“I’ve got just enough for one more job.” I tell her, shaking the bright blue crystals drifting at the bottom of the vial, “Also, do I really have to go under that silly alias you gave me again?”

“Absolutely. We can’t risk having your cover blown, so you’ll have to dye your hair again, and cut it short.”

I sigh, “Alright, I’m fine with that, but could you at least have come up with a better supervillain name than Trickstress?”

“It...it was the best our team could come up with at the time. Do you know how oversaturated the criminal career is now? We had to come up with something that wasn’t already taken.”

I roll my eyes, “Hopefully I’ll never run into Trickster from over in Central City. He might sue.”

“Well, I trust you understand your assignment.” she completes, “The daggers should arrive within the hour. Waller out.”

Does she always have to say that? Amanda and I met in college, and we both started working for the US government at the same time. Over the years, especially after she established Task Force X, she’s called in more than a couple of favors, the crazier being me donning a fake supervillain identity to go undercover. I put away the parcel’s contents and stick it back in its hiding place. I feel my stomach growl for the first time today, I haven’t had anything to eat. I leave the room and walk down the hallway to the stairs. I remember when I first came into the manor there being some kind of dining hall, and if they have doctors stay here for so long they have to have some place for them to eat.

I find the dining hall see a couple other doctors eating and talking, as well as a few security guards. A little bit past the dining hall I find the kitchen, a small fluorescent lighted room that looks more well-suited for an apartment unit than a mansion. The shelves are stocked with anything you could need, so that’s good. After preparing some seasoned vegetables and fish, I take my plate out to the dining hall.

“Hey!” I turn to my left and see Dr. Leland and Dr. Whistler in a small recreational lounge tucked into the corner of the hall.

There are a couple of chairs and a couch surrounding a small black and white television. I sit in between them and start to eat while they also eat and watch TV.

“Tonight, gangsters associated with both Two-Face and Joker took to the streets for a massive shootout in south Cannery Row. The estimated death toll is currently twenty people, with at least thirty more injured.” announcer/reporter Jack Ryder comes onto screen, “We go to field reporter Vicki Vale for more.”

“I’ve never liked the way that guy dresses.” Dr. Leland comments, “Looks kind of tacky to be honest.”

The news report continues, “This is Vicki Vale coming to you live from Cannery Row in Gotham City. Right now you can see and hear the gunshots just a couple blocks away. According to our sources, Two-Face and Joker’s men have teamed up, but their motives are unknown as of this time.”

Did this have something to do with the takeover Amanda talked about? It’s hard to be certain, team-ups happen all the time.

“What’s this?!” the distraught reporter asks as the gunfire draws closer, “It appears that another party has entered the fray, joining both Joker and Two-Face’s gangs. How the police will be able to cope with three gangs at once, there’s no telling.”

“Who could those guys be?” Dr. Leland asks, leaning closer to the screen.

“Hard to say. Unlike Joker, Two-Face, and maybe Riddler most bosses keep their henchmen pretty stationary.” Dr. Whistler answers.

A security guard runs up to the three doctors, “Uhm...do you know where Dr. K is?”

“That would be me.” I reply.

“Well, a package’s just arrived for you.” he informs, “Along with a letter.”

“Oh, that must be the last of my belongings.” I lie, keeping my tone only slightly upbeat.

I walk up to the front door where a small package wrapped in cardboard paper and tied neatly with string sits by the door. Amanda certainly works fast. However, it’s  not like her to leave a letter, maybe there’s more information inside.

I lift the package up and carry it to my room, when I realize that the package has been tampered with. There’s a clear indentation in the cardboard paper where the string had been originally tied. The letter should’ve been a dead giveaway, Amanda never writes letters. Locking the door, I take out my parcel once again and rummage through the costume until I find my scanner. Attaching the scanner to my wrist just out of force of habit, I aim the scanner at the package. The device starts projecting a small holographic image, and the results come in...clean. No explosives, no poisons. Then wh….wait...this could only be from one person.

I slide the letter out of the package with dread. Opening it up, I pull out the neatly folded letter and smell the expensive ink that went into the cursive handwriting,

My Trixie,

   I see that after all this time you’ve finally decided to waltz back into town. Could’ve made it more of a challenge for me to find you, my men intercepted this package like candy from a baby. Now, I’m not sure why you wanted your signature weapons to be delivered to Arkham, hopefully you haven’t gotten yourself locked up there love. Thankfully I was going to make a trip over there anyway, and don’t think you can skip town before I get to at least say hello. It’s been far too long.

Ozzy

   Oh god, so he still remembers me. I don’t know whether I should be flattered or I should start sharpening my daggers right now. It seemed perfectly sound at the time, I was trying to break into the criminal industry as Trickstress so I could perform some espionage for Amanda, and I happened to run into a small time heist thief named Oswald Cobblepot who was looking to do the same. From there, things just kind of...happened. He’s always been short by Gotham standards, but he hadn’t gained nearly as much weight at the time, and he looked much, much younger. Things were good while they lasted, but eventually, my mission was finished, and my criminal identity, no longer needed. I left him a letter explaining everything (well, not quite everything, I couldn’t tell him I was actually a spy, Amanda wouldn’t allow it). I returned to working for the government, and that work usually kept me away from Gotham, from him.

But now, with him coming after me...does he know I was a fake all this time? I can’t imagine how he’s changed since those early days, the Oswald Cobblepot I know is certainly different from the one always seen on TV.

I unwrap the rest of the package, and find my daggers perfectly intact, and nicely polished. I have a feeling Amanda knew she’d reuse these one day. I take out the vial of microscopic blue crystals and begin carefully sprinkling them onto the edges of the daggers. Each small crystal is a tracking device, so one moment of contact will cause at least some of the little pieces to stick to your skin for weeks, and if some of it gets into the bloodstream, even better. I think of Ozzy...so scared and timid, always kind of shaky, but...his hand on my shoulder…

“Dr. K? Are you still in there?” it’s Dr. Whistler, knocking at my door, “Your food is getting cold.”

I quickly seal up the daggers and the letter and shove the package under the bed, “Oh, I’m just finishing up, I’ll be down!” **  
**


	5. Paging the Crime Doctor

   I patiently waited for through the next few days for the inevitable attack. Now armed with this information, I was constantly on high alert. I hated not being able to bring my weapons into the asylum, as their metal detectors and constant checkpoints would surely spot them. How lucky the actual super criminals had a secret set of passageways in which they probably smuggled countless contraband, as well as themselves. Considering that Ozzy intercepted the daggers, that’s probably how they made it into the asylum in the first place. I sit down across the table from my next patient, trying to clear my mind so I could focus on the task at hand,

“So, Mr. Thorne-”

He raises his hand, “Please, call me Matthew. Mr. Thorne is my brother.”

“Yes, your brother is the infamous politician Rupert Thorne with whom you worked for after you lost your license.”

“Don’t patronize me doctor, that is  my file you’re summarizing to me.” he points out.

“I’m just curious as to the relationship you two have held over the years. If I’m correct, he is now also a patient here at Arkham, am I right?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Serves him right too.”

I raise an eyebrow, “So I take it you two don’t get along?”

“No, we get along swell-of course we don’t! The man practically forced me into this silly ‘Crime Doctor’ business in the first place. I got in trouble covering for him, and then he tries to murder a colleague of mine!” his calm demeanor suddenly becomes more violent, as he bursts up from his chair towards the end of his rant.

“I can understand why you’re upset, Matthew.” I assure him.

“Then tell me, doctor: why am I still in this god-forsaken place?!” he shouts at the top of his lungs.

He reaches into his prison uniform and pulls out a medical scalpel. Brandishing it, he comes at me head-on, swinging the scalpel.

I duck backwards, watching the blade swipe inches under my nose. I take this opportunity to grab the weapon, stepping on his foot so that he’d let go of the knife, even just for a second.

I hear a slight crunching sound as my right foot digs into his left. He squeals in pain, allowing me to snatch the blade from his hands.

The interview door flies open, “Dr. K, are you alright?!” the security guard asks, running over to secure Matthew by slamming him onto the interview table.

“I’m fine. He had contraband on him though.” I present her with the scalpel.

“Wow, that’s the fifth one I’ve seen today.” she observes, taking the weapon, “Wonder what’s got the inmates so riled up.”

Matthew then begins to chuckle under his breath. The security guard notices this and slams him further onto the table, “What’s so funny, huh?”

He continues to chuckle endlessly, until the security guard is forced to carry him out, “Sorry about that doctor, hopefully your next one will go a little better.”

I hope so too. Luckily my next patient doesn’t require me to bypass a checkpoint. I feel the real scalpel in the pocket of my white doctor’s coat. That security guard’s right, the patients are quite restless today. Nothing wrong with taking a little precaution.

I look at my clipboard and see the name for my next patient: Edward Nigma. The big one. Is he truly that insufferable? Dr. Leland and Dr. Whistler couldn’t handle him, but can I? It’s quite the test, but somehow I feel I’m up to the task.

It takes two security guards to bring Nigma in, what with him being a slightly higher security prisoner. His brown hair is neatly combed back, and I can already tell he carries an air of arrogance just by the way he proudly saunters into the room and smirks at me,

“Good evening doctor.”

The two security guards leave the room, quietly shutting the door behind them.

“So, where would you like to begin?” I ask him, relinquishing control of the conversation to him, he’d like that.

“I start all things the same way: with a riddle. Riddle me this doctor: what goes up when rain comes down and what goes up a chimney down but can’t come down a chimney up?”

I pause for a second, “...an umbrella. The first one I think I’ve heard before, and the second clue is a little outdated.”

He slouches back into his chair, “Expressing knowledge of the arkane only further proves my superior intelligence. Would you like to know why I bring up the umbrella, doctor?”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to the Penguin.” I play this card carefully, taking great care to choose my words wisely.

“Oh, so you know? Very good, doctor.” he claps slowly, his slender hands crawling up around each other, “Then I assume you also know he’s coming here, tonight, after a very specific patient.”

Should I play dumb here? If I show I know too much, he might suspect something’s amiss, or realize that I’m the person Penguin is after. Then again, too little, and I might come off like I’m bluffing.

“Yes, but I’ve never heard of this patient before. Must be in Intensive Treatment.” I come to my conclusion.

“Trickstess? Ha!” he chuckles, his crisp and clear voice ringing throughout the room, “Hardly so. She’s just a squeeze that he had back in the good old days.”

“Back when you wore spandex?” I ask jokingly, hoping he’ll elaborate on his past, and also a little offended he referred to my alter-ego as Ozzy’s “squeeze”.

“Pardon me, but spandex was in at the time.” Nigma defends, “And besides, it was much easier to hide under my civilian disguise. You know, back when I still cared.”

“You used to work for the Gotham PD as a…?” the file just said he’d worked for them at one point.

“I started as a coroner, and then I worked my way up to become head of IT. I’m very good with computers, you see.” he explains.

“I know, I’ve seen your handiwork.”

He sits up in his chair, “You know something doctor, I think I might actually stand you...just a little.”

I roll my eyes, “What an honor.”

He suddenly lurches out, grabbing my right hand and balling it into a fist under his own. He uses this hand to pull himself closer, so that his warm breath could graze my left ear, “And I’d hope a woman such as yourself would have a taste for  intelligent men.”

Just then, the asylum alarms begin blaring, and a female announcer comes onto the intercoms, “Arkham Asylum is in lockdown. Disturbance in the Botanical Gardens, all unoccupied security personnel are to report there immediately. All non-essential staff are to evacuate the premises immediately.” 

He backs off, resting himself into his seat as the two security guards reenter the room, “Alright Nigma, back to your cell. And no funny business.” one of them sternly tells him, getting out a pair of handcuffs.

“Do you really think you can hold me with those elementary toys? I’ve escaped from playhouses more complicated than those.”

“Shut your mouth.” the other security guard commands, before approaching me, “Dr. K, I’ll be escorting you off the premises. Please, follow me.”

“Oh doctor, this is your first lockdown, isn’t it? I do hope you make it out in one piece doctor...we still have so much to discuss.”

He locks in eye contact with me as the security guard pushes him out of the room, keeping it as long as he can until he head is obscured by the door.

I get up and follow the remaining security guard out the door. Although my interview with Nigma was cut short, I got a lot out of it nevertheless. His riddles are never completely nonsensical, they’re a means to an end, trying to get a point across. Nigma, while admittedly charming, is considered insufferable and untrustworthy in the criminal world, which may explain his contempt against the other villains, especially Ozzy, since I believe that they both rose to power at around the same time. His access to the Gotham PD is probably what gave him his initial edge, as well as his aforementioned skill with computers. And finally, his interest in me...platonic at best. At least I hope so, I’ve never been good at evaluating romantic gestures, it’s one of my blind spots. And although he’s right, I do have a taste for intelligent men, but men have been suspended indefinitely on my priorities list, especially if they’re super criminals.

I follow the security guard out into the hallways, where the patients are pounding on their glass windows and ominously chanting. The female announcer comes back onto the intercom,

“Disturbance in Penitentiary Cell Block A, Penitentiary doors are now locking down. All checkpoints are now closed.”

I look up at the high ceiling walls and spot a dirty, unkempt sign saying, “Cell Block C.” They must have gotten in from the outside, but they’re still fairly far off.

I can hear the security guard snarl in protest, now that the doors are locked, we’re trapped in here. Then again, that also means that whoever’s on the other side can’t get in...hopefully.

“Is there some kind of security booth in this cell block?” I ask the security guard.

“Yeah, good idea, it’s down the hall.” he replies.

We reach the security booth, where two other security guards, including the one from earlier, are working the various phones in the room, most likely trying to get in touch with the other guards and higher-ups.

Something crosses my mind, how could there have been a disturbance at the Botanical Gardens first, it’s no where near the entrance to the island. They must have used those secret passageways, the personnel probably didn’t get to all of them in time. Then maybe if I can find one of them in here, I can escape to the manor where all of my weapons are.

The security guards, preoccupied with the desk on which all the phones and mounds of disheveled paperwork, don’t notice as I walk to the back of the room and begin feeling the pale, greenish tiled walls for any sort of give. I come to a spot where several tiles are missing, and I realize that there’s one tile still remaining, and it looks like it moves through the space where the other tiles should be, like a lever.

Behind me, gunfire sounds off, and I whip around and see four armed thugs have just gunned down half of the guards in the room, who all also had their backs turned. The thugs aim their guns at us, and those of us who remain raise our hands in defeat.

“All the women are to come along with us.” one of the thugs instructs.

The only women in the room are myself and the female security guard who supervised my interview with Matthew. So that’s how Ozzy’s trying to find me, just go through all of the women in the asylum. Maybe I should consider cross-dressing. Two of the thugs march up and grab the both of us. Just as the thug wrangles his calloused hand onto my wrist, I reach into my pocket and pull out the scalpel, stabbing him in the hand.

I pull out the knife as he yells in pain. Before the others can react, I pull the tile all the way through the space. A clicking sound comes from within, and the secret passage slides open to reveal another narrow staircase. I see on my left that the thug has the female security guard hostage, holding the gun to her head. I throw the scalpel, knocking the gun out of his hand, allowing her to kick him back and get away. The other security guards begin escaping through the passageway, and I’m the last one out. The two remaining thugs have their guns trained on me, “Don’t move, or we’ll shoot!”

I raise up my arms, “You really don’t want to shoot. I’m the one you’re looking for.” I slowly reach for my hair, and carefully remove the long brown-haired wig, revealing that I’d cut my hair very short and dyed it a bright orange.

“Hey, we found her!” one of the thugs realizes, “Where’s the boss? He’s gotta see this!”

They begin looking out the door for him, while I use their moment of surprise to creep behind the secret passageway. On the other side, I find a small button, push it, and the entrance begins to close behind me just as a short, stout man in a tuxedo enters the room,

“Catch me if you can boys.” I smirk, waving goodbye.

As the door closes, our eyes meet for a brief second, and behind his monocle, I watch as several emotions flash through his eyes at once, “No!” as the door slams behind him.

****  
  



	6. Almost Got 'Er

   I adjust my wig back on as I race down the staircase to meet the other security guards. Behind me, I can hear the pounding on the walls as well as Ozzy’s shrieking Penguin voice. As the Penguin, he’s decided the best voice is a gruff Cockney accent, but his actual voice is neither gruff, nor even vaguely British. Super criminals either create a persona for themselves to escape into, or use their persona to showcase their true selves, and I’m not sure which is scarier.

A part of me feels terrible for teasing Ozzy like that. He’s already been subject to so much, at this point I’m just adding to the fire. That’s why it’d be best if we just went our separate ways, the way he is now he could have any woman he wanted, so why he continues this wild goose chase mystifies me.

“Doctor, you’re alive…” one of the security guards gasps as I appear from out of the shadows of the dark staircase.

“Which way is the exit, do you know?” I ask, avoiding explaining how I escaped that seemingly impossible situation.

The female security guard points to the right, “That way leads to the Gotham sewers, we can escape into the city from there.”

That’s in the same general direction as the Arkham Manor. I’ll follow them for now, and then I’ll slip away when I get the chance.

The group moves slowly, cautiously making their way through the damp cobblestone floors of the Arkham underground. I can’t help but turn my head around every now and again, making sure nobody is following us.

The direction we take goes completely straight for a very long time without turning, and I grow increasingly paranoid that Ozzy and his men were somehow tailing us. Just then, I hear an explosion from far down the hallway. The guards stop, turning around to see what it was, but we’re too far ahead to see anything.

“I say we not take a chance on that.” I recommend.

“Hold your horses.” one of the guards impatiently refutes.

Footsteps sound all through the dank, rounded corridors. The clanking noise made on the pavement is clear and distinct. These have to be fancy shoes, the workboots commonly worn by the security guards would make this kind of sound.

I quietly slip to the back of the group and slowly continue to back down the hallway, still facing the security guards. The guards have their guns drawn, waiting for the figures to approach,

“Who’s there?” one of the patients asks, his hands shaking as they clenched his weapon.

I find two branching corridor that bend left and right, the left one will take me to the manor. I slip behind this new passageway, but peek out from behind it as my fears are confirmed. Ozzy and at least seven thugs have the security guards outnumbered, their guns trained on them.

“This can go very smoothly if you gentlemen corporate.” Ozzy states, twirling his signature umbrella, “Just tell me where the girl is and I just  might let you all get on with your day.”

The guards look around among themselves and realize I’m no longer there.

“She...she was here just a second ago-”

Ozzy raises his umbrella, “Fine then, you’re all useless. Waste them, boys!”

Making a snap judgement, I pick up a loose stone from the wet floor and hurled it over the other side, causing a loud clacking sound as it hit the wall on the other corridor and splashes into a puddle.

“Hey, what was that? Sounds like it came from over there!” one of the thug notices, pointing to the opposite passageway.

I take this opportunity to start running down my preferred path as the thugs bypass the stunned guards and run down the wrong corridor. I look back one more time, as see that Ozzy is the only one left, standing at the fork of the two paths. Not looking ahead, I don’t notice a wedge in the floor and trip, collapsing into some shallow water and making a fair amount of noise. Ozzy immediately turns around and sees my shadow against the pale green lanterns, and apparently, this is enough for him,

“Hey, hey boys! She went this way! Boys? Hey...you idiots!” they’ve run too far ahead to hear him, and he sets off on his own.

I’ve already gotten a bit of a head start against him, and with his physique, it should be impossible for him to catch up to me.

“Trixie, love, you really shouldn’t be running from me.” he warns, his voice echoing down the hallway.

The passageway becomes increasingly narrow as I continue running down it. I reach the end of hallway to find several branching passageways, each arching in a maze-like fashion, with paper thin walls and a high, rounded ceiling. I go down one randomly, hoping to lose him in the twists and turns.

“Why shouldn’t I?” I ask back, my voice echoing around the room, giving no clear indication as to where I was.

“Well, you can’t run forever, can you?” he challenges.

“And you can’t chase me forever.” I counter, cautiously making my way through the maze, “So I guess we’ll have to see who drops first.”

“It takes a lot more work to be the hunted than the hunter. The hunter only has to win once.”

I reach a dead end, and as I begin to loop around, I catch a glimpse of his figure passing by. I jump back, hoping he didn’t see me. Not daring to look behind the wall, I hold completely still, his dizzyingly loud footsteps disorienting and well as terrifying me.

The footsteps slow down, coming to practically a crawl, leaving enough room in-between each step for the deafening sound to complete its echo across the chamber.

I wait a few more seconds before darting out and making a run for it across the hall. I dash to the right, where I spot the exit. I pick up the pace, I’ve outmaneuvered him.

As I reach the last intersection before the exit, Ozzy jumps out from behind the right path, tackling me to the ground and knocking off my wig. He has both of his meaty hands tightly grasping my wrists, and his long nose is only inches away from mine. The both of us are gasping for air, settling down from the previous events.

Ozzy chuckles giddily, and scent of cigarettes waffs from his breath. I reflexively turn away, but he just as quickly pulls me back. I realize that his arms are wrapped around my arms and waist, locking me into place.

He smirks, “I win.”

I try to push my way through, but his weight is pressing against my stomach, keeping me glued to the floor.

He runs one hand through my hair, resting it on my neck. My breath picks up again...I’d forgotten what it’s like to be in his arms.

“Trixie…” he’s not very good at expressing his thoughts, with the exception of his psychotic ones, but him calling me by his affectionate nickname says it all.

I give a melancholy smile, and use his loosened hand to abruptly grab his arm, and yank him down, turning us both over so that I’m the one on top now.

Ozzy laughs, but when I get up, he realizes that what he’d thought was a romantic advancement was just a ploy to get him off of me.

“Trust me, it’s for the best.” I tell him, before disappearing into the passageway exit.


	7. Knight Time

   The passageway exit opens to reveal a hallway in Arkham Manor. I make sure the wall slides close before finding a decorative cabinet and pushing it in front of the exit.

Racing up the stairs to my room, I hear gunshots from outside. I stop by a nearby window and look out to see Joker, Two-Face, and Ozzy’s men outside, stalking the grounds. As well as two of Ozzy’s men guarding the entrance of the manor. I hear two gruff voices as well as footsteps approaching. I do my best and hide behind a potted plant, hoping the dark shadows cast by the pot and the warm hallway lights will conceal me.

“The boss still down there?” one of them asks.

“Yeah. Apparently Trixie’s back in town and he wants to give her a big welcome back into the team.” the other one replies. I recognize him, he was one of Ozzy’s first guards.

“Trixie? Who’s she? And doesn’t the boss already have Tracey and Candy? If you ask me those two are enough trouble as it is.”

So he does have other girls. Then there really isn’t any other reason for him to want me other than petty revenge. Although after all this time you’d think he’d be over it by now...then again, sociopaths never seem to let go of grudges.

“You know how the boss is, gotta tie up every loose end, gotta have everything to himself. And Trixie’s different from Tracey and Candy. She’s capable, she probably ran out ‘cause she realized she could do better than Penguin.”

I wait for them to pass down the next hallway before darting out and scampering down the hallway to my room. I quietly unlock the door and slip in, shutting it behind me. I find my costume and change as gunfire blinds my window view. From the sound of it, the inmates have completely taken over the asylum. Now it’s only a matter of time before you-know-who shows up.

I step out of my closet in complete costume. My Trickstress costume consists of a t-shirt and shorts one-piece with colorful random geometric shapes and a sky blue base, with matching gloves. This is mostly hidden under a long beige brown trenchcoat, complete with long combat boots, but I like to keep it unbuttoned. Why wear such an eye-catching piece if no one can see it?

I take the final piece of the costume, my light blue mask and hold it up to the small mirror on my dresser. Back to this again. I tie the mask around my face just as someone violently rattles my door from the other side. I feel around my trenchcoat for my marbles, yep, still there. And I have my daggers as well, I’m ready for just about anything.

The door bursts open and several Joker thugs stomp in and open fire onto the entire room, bullets flying everywhere. The dust settles to find the room empty,

“Nobody’s in here, I swear I heard someone though. Oh well, coast is clear.” one of the thugs orders.

I jump down from the ceiling, trenchcoat billowing, “Not quite.”

I kick the first one in the face, knocking him back against the rest. This gives me just enough time to reach into my trenchcoat and throw out several marbles, which hit the group and give out an electrical shock, knocking them all to the ground. Stepping over their incapacitated bodies, I pull out my phone,

“Natalie, status report, you should’ve contacted me by now.” she angrily tells me.

“Ran into a little trouble. You didn’t mention that Penguin and his men would be among the criminals invading the asylum.”

“Cobblepot was the one who got me access to all of those men in the first place, and so I cracked a deal with him, figured you could handle it.”

“Oh, so you’re the one who tipped them off about the passageways? All to lure Batman to the asylum.” Typical Amanda.

“Hey, this is a rare opportunity for me, even with the added risks, I couldn’t pass it up.” she defends, “Now get the job done and stay out of sight. I only asked you to do this because I know you can handle it.”

She hangs up, leaving me standing in the hallway of Arkham Manor. I hear pounding from the other side of the hall. That cabinet won’t hold for much longer, I need to get out of here. If I were Batman, where would I go?

I look around the hallway and see an open window, the curtains floating in the nighttime wind. I run over to the window, climbing over just as the cabinet comes crashing down, the china plates displayed on its shelf and its glass windows shattering onto the ground.

“There she goes!” Ozzy shouts, pointing his umbrella at me to direct three thugs.

I start shimmying up the manor drainpipe as the two thugs arrive at the window. The two thugs follow me up the drainpipe, but as the second one jumps on, the pipe supports snap, and it begins leaning back towards the ground. One thug loses his balance and crashes downward, and being the one higher up, takes the other thug with him.

I jump off of the pipe and cling my fingers onto the very edge of the roof of the asylum. Clutching the slanted tiles, I push myself up as the drainpipe falls to the ground.

“Forget about me darling?” a familiar voice asks over the low hum of whirling blades.

I turn around and see Ozzy flying up by his umbrella which is serving as a miniature helicopter.

I start running, feeling the delicate rooftop tiles slide under my feet as I stepped over them.

The air becomes cold as a tall, dark figure touches down in front of me, his cape closing over his armoured body. Batman...although I’d never seen him up close before, I’ve heard enough stories to know what to expect. The grandiose posture, the determined stare through the mask that has had villains obsessed for years.

Now’s my chance.

“Out of the way!” I shout, drawing a dagger and slashing wildly.

He raises his hand and grabs my dagger, but out of the corner of my eye, on the edge of the blade, the smallest trickle of crimson blood. Jackpot.

I draw back, expecting him to counter back and beat me to pulp, “You’re...you’re Batman…”

I hear a whirr behind me as something snaps at my back. I watch as a black wire net entangles around my front, throwing me off-balance and causing me to go careening down the roof. I feel the pull of the net and suddenly come to a stop, dangling of the side of the roof, held into place by the net. I feel the net pull at my skin again as it begins to reel back up,

“I’ve caught a live one!” Ozzy declares, as I realize that the net is attached to his umbrella.

I look over on the other side and see that Batman’s disappeared.

“Where’d he go?” I ask myself.

“Who cares? Now it’s just you and me, love.” he declares.

It’s fine. At least I got my job done. Mission accomplished, but now what? What does Ozzy have in store?

The umbrella whirrs to a stop as the end of the net snaps free from the umbrella. Ozzy holds me by the net out in front of him, before yanking his arm out further and dangling me over the edge, a small roof tile falling off the edge to demonstrate the height of the fall.

“Are you crazy?!” I shout, clawing at the net.

He chuckles, before swinging me over his shoulder and opening his umbrella, “C’mon, we’re going home.” he says as his umbrella flaps fold in and are replaced by two propellers that start spinning and lift both me and himself up and into the night. **  
**


	8. The Good, The Evil, The Beginning

Several years ago

   I slip into the dress provided for me by Amanda. It’s probably the most risque number I’ve ever attempted to pull off, but thankfully, being straight off of the CIA task force, I’m in pretty good shape. In my hand, I hold a dainty clutch purse, which contains some money, and metal marbles that when thrown, can shock a person or set them on fire, or both, I’m not sure, I haven’t had a chance to try them yet. Under my dress, strapped to my thigh, are those fancy daggers that Amanda gave me. Supposedly the small microbeads coated onto the daggers will track a person once implanted into the blood, leave it to Amanda to think of something like this.

I arrive at the door of one of the many seedy bars in Gotham City. If it were up to me, this is not how’d I’d want to be spending my first day back in my hometown since graduating from high school but what Amanda wants, Amanda gets.

I open the door to be greeted with a dank, dark atmosphere. There are a couple of drunkards, but it’s apparent that most of these men are on official business, by the way they stare me down suspiciously.

I make my way past the bar to a table where men in black and brown suits are huddled closely together, rolling dice and taking bets.

“Evening gentlemen.” I greet them, placing one hand on the edge of the table.

The men turn around from their game to look up at me. They say nothing at first, and their stares are blank and unmoving.

I push my hand forward, leaning into the group, “I hear that Falcone is hiring.” 

The men all burst out into a collective chuckle, before one of them replies, “Falcone? Hiring a pretty thing like you?”

“Why not? Whatever he needs I can do.”

The men put stand up from their seats, and I prepare myself to take them on, but I realize the all stood up at the sound of the front door of the bar bursting open. Two more gangsters stumble in, carrying a much smaller man in a black-and-white suit.

Poor guy, anywhere else he’d be considered of average height, but in Gotham City where the average adult man is a freakish six feet, he’s puny.

“Look who came in crying for a job again!” one of them shouts, slamming the guy onto the bar.

Someone pushes me from behind, I turn around and it’s one of the mobsters, who’s shoving me along with the other recruit. I could take them out...but the goal is to make nice with these guys, however hard that may be.

Becoming more aggressive, the thugs throw the man to the ground, stomping on him. I bite my lip, I could jeopardize my entire mission if I help this man, but then again, I really couldn’t be in much of a lower standing with them right now, could I?

I run in front of the man, shielding him from the gangsters, “Stop!”

The thugs laugh, before one of them throws a punch at me. I block it, but then another one comes from the side, knocking me off balance. I stumble and catch myself against the bar.

The next thing I know, I’m being grabbed by two of the thugs and escorted out of the bar. Looking to my right, I see that the man is being dragged out, clearly far worse for wear than I am.

The bar doors are flung open and I’m thrown out onto the dirty, wet pavement, with the man launched right next to me, before the doors are slammed behind us.

I look over my shoulder and see that the man is lying motionless on the ground. Is he hurt bad?

“Hey.” I bark over to him.

His head turned away from me, he stirs ever-so-slightly, slowly turning over to reveal light blue eyes, pale skin, and an abnormally pronounced nose.

What do I say next? “Uhm...you too huh?”

With one hand, he pushes himself up, “Yeah...it’s, not exactly easy to find decent work in this town, is it?”

I nod, and as I begin to push my upper half off the dank pavement, I realize my dress is now soaked from the front, covered in the grime of the street, “Dammit!”

His voice is mid-ranged, and very timid, “Do...do you have anywhere you can go?”

“Yeah, but no where with a place to wash this dress.”

“Well, I have an apartment, not too far from here. It’s, not much, but there’s a washer and dryer. You could wash your dress there.”

Is he serious? This guy is clearly new to the scene as well, considering how trusting he is. And if he’s trying to pull something, well, considering I have at least three inches on him, he shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

“Alright, thanks. What’s your name?” I ask, picking myself up.

He offers his hand to help me, which I take, and as I rise up, the helping hand becomes a firm handshake, “Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot.”

I smile, “I’m-” I realize I can’t use my real name, “Just call me Trixie.”

His hand lingers on my own just a little longer before he lets go. His eyes meet mine, and I realize, under the newly acquired black eye and suit that’s just a little too big for his small frame, he’s kind of cute. Wait...what am I saying?!

“Shall we?” he asks, gesturing to the right, “My apartment’s down this way.”

I feel myself blushing even under the cold wind of the night. I nod, and begin following him down the dark and bleak Gotham street.

Present Day

   I wake up in what appears to be a prison cell. Did the police catch Ozzy and lock us up? No, if that were the case, it’d be him who’s locked up, not me. This has to be a cell of his own making.

“Is somebody up?” it’s Ozzy, stepping out of the shadows.

“Whatever you have planned, bring it on.” I challenge him.

He  tsks at me playfully, shaking his head, “So hostile, are we? Why is that dear?”

“Well, maybe it’s because you have me locked up in a prison cell. Where are we anyway?”

“Don’t you recognize this place? Well, I guess I didn’t have the private room installed until afterwards, can’t blame you there.”

I look around, and see that the room is an office of sorts, complete with a mahogany desk and a large self-congratulatory portrait of Ozzy, and the air foul with the smell of cigarette smoke. When did he pick up smoking anyway? My cage must have been moved in recently, as it doesn’t seem to be supported by anything, and it certainly doesn’t fit in with the velvety look of the office.

“What do you want?” I demand.

He throws me an article of clothing. I pick it up and realize it’s my old dress, the one I wore the day we met. I can’t believe he held onto this, why would he hold onto this?

“Put it on, and if you can’t fit it, no shame there. I mean, look at me, I’ve put on quite a bit of weight, haven’t I?” he laughs jovially, “Now don’t take too long dear, Gotham high society awaits!” he turns away, raising his umbrella to the sky, but then quickly turns back, “Oh...and in case you try an funny business.”

He presses a button on his desk and a small television screen appears out of the panelling showing a black-and-white security feed of both Dr. Leland and Dr. Whistler tied up and gagged in another room.

I frown, while I barely knew those doctors a week, I’d hate to see anything bad happen to them, and it’s clear Ozzy can certainly make that happen.

“Fine, but you can’t be in the room while I’m changing.” I tell him.

He smirks, “Of course.” pressing the button again so the TV retracts, he then quietly steps into the next room.

I search in my trenchcoat pockets. Both my marbles and daggers are gone, of course. If only I knew where they are, I could get Dr. Whistler and Leland out of here. But until then, it would probably be best to follow Ozzy’s orders.

And...the dress still fits, amazing.


	9. I've Got Trickstress In My Trap

Chapter 9

Several years ago

   “Oswald, I have to thank you for letting me wash this dress over at your place.” I formally thank him as we walk along the street back to my own apartment.

He chuckles, “Trust me it’s nothing. It’s the least I could do after you...stood up for me back at the bar.”

“Your mother is wonderful by the way. She’s so nice, I’ve never had someone make me breakfast before.”

“Yeah, she’s great. And she likes you too.” he states, stuttering a little in between.

“You really think so? Usually when I meet a guy’s parents, things don’t tend to go over well.” I admit.

“Well...I don’t usually bring people over, so I think she must have been pleasantly surprised.”

I nod, looking up at the dull gray building where my apartment is located, which is only a block away now, “Well, I think we should definitely do this again sometime-”

The early morning sky becomes jet red as an explosion rockets from the building. Oswald and I jump back and find cover in an alleyway as debris flies at us.

“Was that…?”  
“Yeah.” I mumble as the aftershock of the explosion settles.

We come out from behind and see the building is now completely ablaze. I watch as several people run out of the building, their skin and clothing scorched from the flames. How did this happen?

I glance over at Oswald. I could blow my cover if I tried to rescue the people in the building...screw cover.

I charge for the building, and I hear Oswald’s footsteps not too far behind, “What are you doing?!”

“There are still people inside, I gotta help them!” I explain, running to the side of the building, scale a drainpipe, and I look in for just a second before jumping in.

Present Day

   The moment Ozzy unlocks my cage I think about escaping. I could easily overpower him and make a run for it. But then, what would happen to Dr. Leland and Whistler? I don’t need more blood on my hands, that’s for certain.

“There we go. Free as a bird.” he smirks, taking my hand.

“Not really.” I mumble.

He leads me out of the cage and into the room. There are an intricate pair of high heels set on the floor for me. He lets go of my hand and gestures to them. I bend over and slip into them, wiggling each foot a little so they could slip past the decorative straps. I also take some time to adjust my mask, since as Trixie, I always keep it on. I look up just in time to see an umbrella slam into my face, throwing me off of my feet. I leap up, ready to block the next blow, but all I see is Ozzy, standing proudly above me,

“That was for leaving me.” he declares, before bending down and forcefully grabbing my jawline, “I didn’t hurt you too bad, right? ...no bruise, good. You were always so very durable.”

“Should I get use to that?” I ask cynically, practically spitting in his face.

“Only if you misbehave.” he grabs me and pulls me up by my arm, “Now come, onto this evening’s plans.”

I catch up with him to the point where he’s no longer pulling me along, and with his umbrella, he sticks it into a key hole and it unlocks the door. Pushing it open, he reveals the balcony overlooking an expansive ice-themed restaurant, with a private table on the balcony, a small table for two set up with bread and wine.

This place use to be a restaurant called Angelo’s. I remember when he first bought it. And when I came back, I’d heard it was now a restaurant and casino known as the Iceberg Lounge, but I’d never seen it until now,

“Ozzy...this place is beautiful.”

He squeezes my hand, “I’m glad you like it.”

He walks over and pulls out the seat for me, so he’s still a gentleman, at least a little. I sit down and he pushes me in, and before he seats himself, he bends his head down and kisses me on the forehead. Of course his nose gets in the way, as it always does, digging slightly into my head.

“So, where exactly have you been, all this time?” he asks, opening the bottle of wine.

“In Central City, working with Trickster.” I lie.

“Oh, you mean discount Joker? No wonder you came back.” he snarks, “But seriously, where have you been? You didn’t just leave me to run off with some C-list scum, I know that.”

“Well, what if I am that cruel?” I ask, feining disinterest.

He chuckles, “Heh heh...you’re not. I know who you really are...you’re a kind-hearted, caring person, you can’t hide that from me. And now...I know how to use that to my advantage.”

I lower my eyes until they become slits, “You are not the man I fell in love with.”

“No, I’m the man you knew I could become. You told me I could be so much more than what I was, and now...now look at me, my dear. You were right.”

A waiter comes in from a small employee door with two silver platters, placing them in front of us and lifting the plates reveal two generous servings of calamari. Damn, he remembers I like calamari. Well, if I’m going to be his captive for a while, I might as well enjoy myself a little.

Out of the corner of my eye I see him pouring me a glass of wine, “You know I don’t drink Ozzy.”

“Oh, but you must try this Sauvignon Blanc, I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” he insists.

“And how is this a special occasion?”

He puts down the bottle, “Why, it’s your homecoming, of course.” he raises his glass, “To us, may we rekindle our relationship, and sustain it for many years to come.”

Reluctantly, I raise my glass, and when the glasses connect, our knuckles graze for just a moment. Ozzy sips from his glass, while I stare at mine intently. Could I honestly drink to something like that? Do I want to drink at all?

I throw my wine off of the balcony, leaning over the glass railing to watch it splash onto a poor patron below. Ozzy looks over as well, and the patron looks up, and I realize it’s Matches Malone, the insurance fraud guy.

I can’t help but giggle a little, and I hear Ozzy chuckle as well. We turn to each other and our giggles turn into rambunctious laughter.

Several years ago

   I stumble out of the burning building with three more residents, two of which are being supported by my arms and shoulders. They run away the minute we’re out and I fall to the ground. I feel two hands catch my head just as it’s about to hit the concrete. I then feel my entire body being shakingly lifted, as two hands that can just barely handle my weight attempt to lift me up. I cough up a fair amount of smoke before I manage to speak,

“Put me down...I...I can walk-”

“No, no, you’ve done enough. Let me carry you.” Oswald insists, his voice warm and comforting.

I smile at him, “You’re gonna drop me.”

“I’ll manage.”

I look back at the burning building, “Where are we going anyway?”

He sighs, “Well, Mother does like you, and after what you did, I’m sure she won’t have a problem with you staying over for a while.”

He reaches out with one hand to comb his hand through my hair, but this causes his support to slip, and I hit the ground, landing on my posterior. He reaches down to help me up, and I take his hand, smirking at him, “Told you you’d drop me.” **  
**


	10. Fine Feathered Finks

Present Day

   I sit watching Ozzy’s heinous eating habits, as he dangles his last piece of calamari over his head and drops it down into his mouth. This is all part of his act, his Penguin persona, the same goes for the stupid British accent he uses when speaking to the waiter,

“No dessert for us tonight Garson, we’ll be late for the opera.”

“Opera?” I ask aloud.

He turns to me, nodding, “I’ve reserved two wonderful seats at the Gotham Opera House.”

When’s the last time I’ve been to the opera? The last time I was with Ozzy, I guess. He’s the one who introduced me to opera, and I do rather like it, if only to have a good time with him.

I take his hand as he leads me down the delicate bending staircase made of glass stained to look like ice. As we reach the bottom of the staircase, a woman dressed in a tight sportsdress marches up to him in her black heels,

“Oie, Penguin, where’ve you been all night? An’ who’s she? She one of the dancers or something?” dear God, her British accent is worse than his.

“Trixie, this is Tracey, one the restaurant managers.” he introduces, “Tracey, this is Trixie, my...well, we’re still working that one out, aren’t we?”

“We’re old friends.” I say politely.

She raises her eyebrow, “She looks a lot like Candy. If you really wanted some company boss, why not just ask her? She’s certainly got bigger tits than-”

“That’s...that’s quite enough Tracey.” Ozzy chuckles nervously, gripping my wrist tightly, “Take care of the place while I’m gone, as you usually do.”

We’re just about to leave the restaurant when a familiar man in a green suit approaches them, “Ah, Cobblepot, I see you have your girlfriend back.”

“Nigma, I see you’ve escaped Arkham once again. You’ll have to thank me for the break-out though. I assume the passages are back open?”

He nods, “Certainly. Your men were even kind enough to move around the entrances. No longer will our little secret be trampled upon by pure accident.” his eyes drift to me, and he spends a few seconds looking me over. Does he recognize me?

“Would you stop staring, boy? If you want to stare at girls, the cabaret show is just beyond the casino.” Ozzy demands, pulling me away from him.

Mr. Nigma, or should I call him the Riddler, smiles through his purple-tinted glasses, “Riddle me this: I talk, but I do not speak my mind

I hear words, but I do not listen to thoughts

When I wake, all see me

When I sleep, all hear me

Many heads are on my shoulders

Many hands are at my feet

The strongest steel cannot break my visage

But the softest whisper can destroy me. What am I?”

“People have better things to do than sit and pick apart your silly puzzles, Nigma.” Ozzy spits, “Come my darling, we mustn’t be late.”

I feel Riddler’s eyes trained on me as we exit the Iceberg Lounge, “The answer is: an actor!”

   We starting walking the streets, the Gotham Opera is only a few blocks away. The streets are dark and dimly lit, as usual.   
“Tracey, was it? And there’s another woman too...Candy?” I ask, recalling the woman with the horrid imitation of a British accent.

“They’re two employees of mine, nothing more.”

“Really? It certainly seems like there’s more going on than just that.”

“Well, can you blame me? I got lonely while you were gone...I, I even tried moving on at one point-”

“And why didn’t you?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE MINE!” he shouts frantically.

Both of our heartbeats quicken. In any other situation, I would not take that for an answer, but I know right now, I have to make the exception.

I can feel Ozzy grip my hand tighter as we pass by a small band of homeless burning the contents of a garbage can in an alleyway.

One of them notices us, and steps out from the shadows, wielding a small pocketknife, “Alright, you know the drill. Wallet and jewelry.”

I shift my eyes to the side as I see two more thugs grab a brick and a pipe from among the alleyway trash. Looks like we’re going to be in for a fight.

“You fools! Do you know who I am?” Ozzy shouts.

The thug with the pipe comes swinging right towards Ozzy. I push him out of the way, grabbing the pipe with both hands. I twist the pipe so it’s facing him and jab it into his stomach, knocking him back. With the pipe, now in my hands, I hold the pipe at the end and swing it at the thug, smacking him in the face. I brandish the pipe like a baseball bat as the thug with the pocketknife approaches,

“Allow me, my dear.” Ozzy cuts in, raising his umbrella.

He pops it up, and a small blade comes out the end of it. The man with the pocketknife swings wildly, but his swipes barely tear at the fabric of the umbrella. Ozzy thrusts forth, stabbing the man directly in the chest. The blade still inside him, Ozzy lowers the thug to the ground and his body slides off of the blade and lands lifeless on the ground.

The last man with the brick hopelessly runs towards us. With the pipe in both hands, I hit the hand holding the brick, causing him to drop it. Ozzy comes in with his umbrella, jabbing him in the shoulder,

“I say we keep this one alive, teach him a lesson.”

“You’ve had your fun. Like you said, we’ll be late for the opera.” 

And I have no interest in participating in active torture.

He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his umbrella blade clean of blood before retracting it, “As you wish, my dear.” before extending a hand to me.

I realize I’m still holding the pipe. I could easily hit him over the head with it and escape. But then, what would happen to Dr. Leland and Whistler? Do I even care? I’ve only known them a week...honestly, I don’t really care. But, for some reason, I feel an obligation to stay. Even if I hardly know them at all they’re still human beings. I drop the pipe. As it falls to the ground and it crashes to the ground with a clang, I realize there’s something else too, keeping me here, something I can’t quite put my finger on... 

I take his hand and smile, a smile he returns, before we continue to the opera.

Several years ago

   “You have a lovely view.” I comment, staring out the window of Oswald’s room into the Gotham skyline as the sun begins to set.

His mother had brought us sandwiches to eat after I’d cleaned myself up. The way she dotes on him reminds me of a mother taking care of a small boy. I almost imagine we’re young children on a playdate, or what I imagine a playdate would look like.

“Not really, that big skyscraper is covering my view of the Gotham Bay.” he points out, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“Oh, who cares about the bay? Have you ever been to the bay? Dirtiest thing ever.”

He nods as he swallows, “Yeah...many times actually.”

“Why?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly go by choice.” he explains, “There were these group of boys from school who’d bring me out there and force me in.”

“And you didn’t fight back?” I ask.

He sighs, “...I...I was short. Still am. Plus, I’m sure you’ve noticed my nose and teeth. I’ve always had those...Penguin, that’s what they called me. I was a little Penguin, who couldn’t defend himself...I, I’m sorry, I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this.”

While I’d noticed his slightly elongated nose, I’d never noticed his teeth before, most people in Gotham don’t have dental hygiene high on their priority list anyway, but as he smiles at me, I notice his teeth are not only yellowed out and protruding, but are also slightly sharpened, like all of his teeth are canines.

“It’s fine.” I tell him, “If it helps, I’ll never call you Penguin-” I pause, “...except for that one time.”

He chuckles, “It’s cool, really.”

I laugh as well, “What, me calling you Penguin?”

“NO!” he shouts angrily.

I step back, shocked at his sudden mood swing. Maybe I’d gotten more than what I’d bargained for with this guy. Should I try to negotiate around him? Or is he more trouble than what he’s worth?

“Is something wrong?” Oswald’s mother asks, her frail figure timidly standing by the door.

“Nothing Mother.” he smiles pleasantly.

Her expression sours, she clearly doesn’t believe him, “Well, if you two need anything, I’ll be just outside in the living room.”

“Hey, do you guys have a phone I can use?” I ask him. I need to call Amanda  now .

She shakes her head, “No...sorry. There’s a payphone a couple of blocks awa-”

“Who do you want to call?” Oswald asks innocently.

“A...a friend who might let me stay over until I can get back up on my feet.”

He chuckles nervously, his eyes shifting for me to his mother to back to me, “But, aren’t you going to stay here?”

“Yes, and you’ve been very kind. But I wouldn’t want to outstay my welcome.” I tell them.

His mother pauses for a split second, returning the glances of her son, “Well, that’s awful thoughtful of you, but you’re welcome to stay here, it was very kind of you to help me with the dishes and laundry this morning. I could use the help around the house.”

“Well, a few days at most.” I conclude, hoping I’d made the right decision.

His mother claps her hands together and smiles warmly, “Wonderful, now, who wants dessert?”

Oswald raises his hand, “Oh, me!”


	11. The Penguin's A Jinx

Present Day

   According to the posters in front of the Gotham Opera, the show playing is titled:  Bluebeard’s Castle . While Ozzy is definitely familiar with the show (pulling his usual stunt of getting up and singing along during the male solos), he seldom ever explains the storyline to me, insisting, that I should simply enjoy the show, regardless of its plot. But, how can I understand what’s going on? These operas are never in English.

During the show, I chuckle when Ozzy sings along with the male lead, much to the displeasure of the others seated around us. He takes notice of this, turning around and smiling at me. The momentary solo ends, and Ozzy returns to his seat, but this time he wraps his arm around mine. I turn to him, as I feel a warmth grow in my chest. I can’t believe it, I think I still love him. But, as I look at his pudgy figure, balding head, and remembering the foul smell of cigarettes whenever his breath draws near, I also realize that he has lost his physical appeal to me. His life of crime and decadence has aged him far beyond his years, making him appear at least twenty years older than he actually is. Yet I allow him to cling to me further, feeling his tuxedo brush up against my shoulder.

“Well, I have to say, that was a wonderful play.” I admit as we exit the theatre.

Our arms still linked, Ozzy lifts up my hand and kisses it, “Only the best for you, my darling.”

The Iceberg Lounge is nearly empty when we return, with only a few remaining waiters around cleaning up the tables. Ozzy leads me back to his office, but he doesn’t put me back in the imported jail cell. Instead, he leads me into the side room in his office, which turns out to be a small living quarters with the main attraction being a plush velvet double bed...with another woman already waiting on it,

“Boss, you’re back.” the woman greets in a almost sickeningly sweet voice. She gets up and starts walking toward us, her heels clacking as she lowers her glasses, “Who’s the friend?”

“Candy, I won’t be needing you tonight.” Ozzy tells her, opening the door for her.

“Oh, c’mon boss, you know I’m always up for a...threesome.” she places her hand on my chin, but I push it away,

“Sorry, but you’re not my type.” I tell her coldly.

She takes a slow, sultry stroll around me, examining me, “...Tracey was right. We do look alike, except for the...well, you know.” she completes her circle, giving her own breasts a light push, “Boss, don’t tell me you’re out-sourcing me to this cheap thing.”

“Goodnight Candy.” he grumbles, pushing her out the door.

“Boss, boss...I, I can do it for half-price, just for you baby...boss?” she’s cut off as the door is shut behind her.

“I’m assuming the fact that we look alike is no coincidence, am I correct?” I ask him, putting my hands on my hips.

“A plaything, my relationship with her was that of a simple transaction, but I have no need for her now.” he removes his tuxedo jacket and gives a malicious grin, “Now, I have you.”

Wait, what? Oh no, no no no, this is not happening.

“Ozzy, you really want to...after only one night? Don’t you think we’re going a bit too fast?”

He grabs the back of my neck, and I half expect him to start strangling me, “My dear, anything is possible when love is involved.”

He pulls me into a kiss, and I instinctually know to bend my head at just the right angle to avoid his nose. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he leads me to the bed. We collapse down onto it, and Ozzy reaches over as we kiss to draw the curtains around the bed, concealing us from view.

Several years ago

   Oswald and I return to his apartment from another day of getting rejected by various criminal organizations,

“Ugh, I’m gonna put you down now, okay?” I ask Oswald, who’s sporting a black eye and possibly a twisted ankle.

He nods, and I place him onto his bed in his room, which is cluttered with various books, as well as detailed sketches of birds hanging from the walls.

“Get hurt like that again, and you’re gonna end up with a permanent limp.” I warn him, sitting in the chair by his bedside.

He chuckles, “Hey, could you get me that book over there? The really small one labelled  Sonnets .” he points to a stack of well-loved books in the corner.

I reach over and sift through the books until I find the one he’s describing, and hand it to him. He cracks it open a easily finds his desired page. He reads aloud,

“Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,

And like enough thou know'st thy estimate:

The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;

My bonds in thee are all determinate.

For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?

And for that riches where is my deserving?

The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,

And so my patent back again is swerving.

Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing,

Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking;

So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,

Comes home again, on better judgment making.

Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,

In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.”

“What’s that?” I ask, leaning forward to see the yellowed, worn out pages.

“Shakespeare. Sonnet eighty seven.” he explains, “You reminded me of this poem.”

“Farewell? I’m not leaving right away.”

He shrugs, recoiling back in pain at the movement of his shoulders, “Well...you certainly seem to be in a hurry to leave, you’re always welcomed here.”

I smile, “That’s very kind of you, but like I said, I don’t want to burden you.”

He pauses, putting the book back down, and staring up at the ceiling, “If it were up to me...you’d stay here forever.”

What? Did he seriously just say that? I’ve only known this guy for how long?

“Uhm...okay. So, who have we not tried selling our souls to?” I ask, changing the subject as I take out a small list we’d written down of all of our possible employers.

“Did we try the Maronis yet?”

“Uhm...yeah. That’s where you hit your head.” I remind him.

He nods, “Oh yeah. What about Rupert Thorne?”

I check the list, “...yep, isn’t that where they called you Pen-...uhm, you’re nickname?”

He snarls, “Those brutes aren’t worth our time.”

“You looked like you wanted to kill them.”

“I did.”

I pause for a moment. Would he be capable of killing someone? From his tone of voice, he certainly isn’t joking, he wanted those guys dead. While most of the time he’s very innocent-looking, almost infantile, just under that is something much more dangerous. But then again, what do you expect from a man trying to pursue a career as a professional criminal?

“You know what? Screw the gangs.” I declare, “I think we can make a name for ourselves.”

“How so?” he asks.

I shrug, “How else? We steal something of value, and sell it to the highest bidder.”

He continues to stare up at the ceiling, “...you know what? That might actually work.”

I get up, “Well, I have to make that phone call. Your mother said the payphone’s just a couple blocks away, right?”

“Yeah, between fourth and Grundy.”

I nod, but as I walk toward the door, I look back and see Oswald’s expression, that of a yearning puppy dog, his pale hands clutching the ends of his bedsheets, “Please...stay.”

I give a melancholy smile, and something inside me wants to run up to him, to hug him and tell him everything’s going to be alright. But while I know I can’t make that promise, I can make this one,

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

I walk out of the room, letting it naturally shut behind me. I cross the small apartment to the door when I’m suddenly interrupted,

“Trixie, is it? Can I talk to you?” it’s Oswald’s mother, standing by the door to her room.

I turn around, “Of course, Mrs. Cobblepot.”

She gestures for me to sit on their antiquated couch as she pours us some tea, “Our family use to be very wealthy, you know.” she sets down the teapot, “The Cobblepot name use to be something to fear, until the Waynes reduced us to nothing.” her voice turns bitter at the mention of the Waynes.

Where is she going with this?

She picks up her tea cup and takes a polite sip, “As much as I’ve tried, I can’t protect Oswald anymore. Maybe I never have.”

“What do you mean?” Is she referring to me?

“I’ve given him the best upbringing I could with our measly funds, but I could never fully shield him from the filth out in those streets. You’ve seen the boy’s injuries, he can’t defend himself.” she sighs, staring into her tea, “What I’m trying to say is, I’m not going to around for much longer and Oswald, he needs someone to look after him.”

This woman is out of her mind, “Madam, with all due respect, I’ve only known Oswald a couple of days-”

“And that’s a lot more than anyone else has ever given him.” she interrupts. She then pauses, as if she regrets saying that. She stiffens her shoulders, standing firmly straight, “To be honest, you would definitely not be my first choice. If we were still in power the last thing I’d have my son do is marry a savage woman. But my son is...quite taken by you, and considering he hardly interacts with others as it is, you’re not the worse person he could end up with.”

I want to slap her right now. The last time I was referred to as a “savage” was when some police officers raided my apartment building when I was a child. He was old too, it always comes from old people, product of a different time I guess. Still, I wanna slap her.

“Well...that was very...insightful.” I tell her, my voice edging on sarcastic, “Now if you’ll excuse me I need to make a phone call.”

She looks genuinely shocked as I get up from the couch and forcefully stride to the door, containing my anger. And I was sort of starting to like her too.

“Oh dear...was it something I said?” she asks in vain as I shut the door behind me.


	12. The Penguin's Nest

Present Day

   Yeah...we didn’t do it last night. Yes, Ozzy got me into bed with him, we fooled around a bit for sure, and I saw the box of condoms peeking out from just under the bed, but I also know how to make him blow his load before anything actually goes into anything. I didn’t even have to take off my dress, and that’s exactly how I like it. Sex would only complicate things further.

Drops of cum slide down my hands and onto my arm as Ozzy receives blissful release. I take my hand off of him and look down at my now sticky hand...I definitely need to wash that in the morning. I slip back into bed with him as he sighs,

“Well, we haven’t done something like that in a long time.”

I nod, “Yeah…” despite what he says, he’s very easy to please sexually. I’d figured that with those two girls around he’d have gained a little more resistance, but I guess not.

My hairs stand on end as I feel his warm hand slip under my dress, brushing my thigh. Shifting himself so that he’s in front, his other hand joins the first and he maliciously grins,

“Oh, you thought I’d forgotten about you?”

Woah. Whatever power I’d had over him in his moment of weakness, he now has over me. He must have learned something from those girls, his touch is now much more refined and forceful. I reach my climax within minutes, I guess I’m the inexperienced one now.

We lay in bed together, among the now slightly disheveled sheets, I feel his arms wrapped around me lovingly. Our breathing in sync, eyes locked, I see a glimpse of the man I’d fallen in love with, still in there somewhere. I snuggle in closer to him as we fall asleep together, certain of my feelings for him. And I didn’t want to complicate things.

   I wake to an empty bed. I look over and on the chair by the vanity dresser is my Trickstress outfit set out for me. I change out of my dress and into it, but as I feel the pockets I see that my weapons have still not been returned to me. How long before he trusts me with them? But then again, he probably also realizes that the moment he trusts me is also the moment I double-cross him. In his bedroom, there’s a high-rising set of glass doors leading out to a small balcony that I decide to investigate. It’s one of Gotham’s rare clear, sunny days, if it weren’t for the black and gray scorched buildings, you’d think this was Metropolis. I lean over the railing and look down. Below is an alleyway, one I’m familiar with, at the bottom should be the kitchen door of the Iceberg Lounge, as long as Ozzy hasn’t changed it, and I have a feeling he hasn’t.

I look to the side and see a drain pipe, one I could easily scale down, and with any luck, make it down in one piece. 

“Morning love.” Ozzy comes up from behind me before I can think on my escape any further, hugging me from behind and looking out at the view.

I lean into him, feeling his dark hair rustling against my cheek, “I’ve never seen Gotham this...cheery before.”

“I know, right? It’s almost like...like a sign of something.” he murmurs, almost to himself, “You know, in Shakespeare, the weather often reacts to the events happening in the story.”

“I know, you’re the one who told me.” I remind him, kissing him on the cheek.

He responds to this, pulling my lips into his, as we’re hit by a fresh morning breeze.

We’re interrupted by a knock at the door, and Ozzy hobbles over to respond to it. His walk never really bothered me, especially since I know how he came by it, I always thought it was kind of cute,

“Who’s calling me at this bloody hour?!” he shouts, reverting into his fake British accent.

“Boss, it’s an emergency, it’s-”

“Out with it already boy!” Ozzy demands, pointing his umbrella toward him, the grunt jumping back.

“Okay, okay! It’s some guys from the government. They say they want your hostages, all three of them. They’re outside, they said they’ll pay you, a, a lot of money-”

“Tell them to piss off.” he demands.

“They’re threatening to take them back by force, they’re not the usual government guys, I think they wanna keep this off of the books. You just have to name a price-”

“Are you deaf boy?! I said no! If they want this off of the books, then it shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of them, now would it?”

“Ye...yes boss.” he responds before shutting the door.

Just outside, there’s gunfire, as well as the shattering of glass. Ozzy waddles into his office room, and peeks out into the next room, “They better not have broken any of my ice sculptures.”

Someone yells, “Coast is clear, boss!” and Ozzy continues out into the restaurant. I follow him, and entering the room, reveals in the middle of the room right below us, two bodies lie on the floor, blood seeping from them and pooling around.

Ozzy approaches them and turns one of them over with the tip of his umbrella. It’s an younger man, about the same age as me when I’d started that same line of work, “Well lookie here Trixie, Waller’s sent you a present. How thoughtful.”

“You didn’t have to kill them.” I argue, “You could’ve added to your hostage list.”

“They interrupted my morning. That’s reason enough for me to kill them, and besides, government agents are too much of a hassle to keep for long. Look at you.”

I can’t help but gasp, “You...you know?”

He chuckles, clutching my wrist and leaning in close, his breath smelling of his freshly lit cigar, “You underestimate me my dear. I’ve known from the beginning. So don’t think I don’t know your tricks.”

I pull away from him, “But...I’m the enemy, aren’t I? Why don’t you want me gone?”

He grabs my hand and kisses it, “Love is blind, my dear.”

Several years ago

   Finally reaching the payphone Oswald’s mother mentioned, I call up Amanda,

“Natalie, finally! What happened, did something go wrong?”

“Yes, something definitely went wrong. The apartment I was residing in was bombed, all I have left are the weapons you gave me.” I explain. I then begin telling her everything, including meeting Oswald and how I was staying at his place.

“Hmm...having an associate would be helpful, especially considering your situation. But still, trust no one.”

“Of course but...couldn’t you at least send me some money, clothes...anything?”

“No can do Natalie.” she responds, “Falcone’s keeping a close eye on everything going in-and-out of the city, my hands are tied. Sending anything with our stamp on it would alert the crime bosses. You’re resourceful, figure something out. Waller ou-”

I hang up the phone before she can finish. Of course she can’t send anything over, it’s not that she can’t, there is such a thing as anonymous mailing, it’s just that she can’t be asked. And on top of that, who knows how much money the government actually gives Task Force X,  and I hear those detonatable tracking devices are expensive.

“Hands up lady.” a gruff voice behind me demands.

I turn around to see a common thug, completely clad in black sweater and ski-mask, holding a gun to my head. I hold my hands up, with both of my fists closed. Slowly, I unclench my fists and from my right hand falls a single metal marble. I jump back just as he fires his gun, and at the same time, the marble hits the ground, releasing a gray smoke. 

The thug coughs as it clears, and he looks around to see that the small street is now deserted.

I grab him from behind, kicking him in the knee and wrapping my arms around his neck, one of my knives at his throat, “Are you the one who bombed that apartment building in Amusement Mile?” I ask him slowly, drawing the knife closer to his neck.

“I...I have no idea what you’re talking ab-”

“That’s not the answer I wanted to hear.” I clarify, cutting ever-so-slightly into his skin, drawing a droplet of blood.

“Fine, fine! Someone’s put a hit on you, they know you’re with the government.”

“And who is this person?”

“N...no idea. That’s all I know, I swear!”

I let him go, kicking him to the ground, “It better be.”

Just as he’s about to run off, a closed umbrella slams down on his head. It’s Oswald.

“How...how dare you hurt her.” he spits angrily, clumsily hitting him on the head one more time for good measure.

I look up at Oswald as he finishes, “Wow...I had no idea you had that in you.”

“Yeah, well, nobody hurts my friend.” he assures her, smiling giddily as he shakes the blood off of his umbrella.

I glare down at the man, who’s now knocked out cold, and I see a newspaper clipping sticking out of his jacket pocket. I reach down and pick it up, folding it out to read the main headline:

Valuable Diamond to be Displayed At Gotham Gallery

I raise an eyebrow, this man must’ve had some interest in this diamond to have this on his person. 

“What’s that?” Oswald asks, looking over the article.

“The guy had it on him, not sure why though.” I tell him, handing it to him.

Holding it in his hands, his lips twist into a devious smile, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I smile, at least I don’t have to spell it out, “Let’s get ourselves a diamond.”


	13. The Penguin Jests

 

Present day

   Ozzy escorts me back to my cell. I comply completely, not exactly in a rebellious mood.

"You stay here and relax. I need to find something for tonight." he tells me as we walk into his office.

"And what exactly are we doing tonight?" I inquire, my tone slightly suggestive so to not reveal my true motives.

He smirks, "That is for me to know-"

"And for me to find out?"

He kisses my cheek as I take a few steps into the cell, "For you to be pleasantly surprised by."

He closes the cell shut, and walks into his living quarters, shutting the door behind him.

I smile for a few seconds more after he'd left. He can be wonderful sometimes.

I fall to the ground and start doing push-ups, if I'm going to be in here all day, I might as well have something to do. Maybe I can also get Ozzy to bring me a couple of books from his collection. I do remember fondly of his booklet of Shakespearean sonnets.

I'm completing a set of stretches when Ozzy reenters the room, looking slightly more distraught than when he'd left.

"Can't find what you're looking for?" I ask, standing up and leaning against the cell bars.

"No, no, no, I know I had it there...someone must've stolen it. Did you steal it?!"

I raise an eyebrow, "How could I steal it if I don't even know what you're looking for?"

He grumbles and shuffles off in a hurried pace. I return to my workout, hooking my feet to the top cell bars and letting the rest of my body hang down. I then push my upper body up to the point where my head touches my knee. I spend my hours not only inventing increasingly more creative ways to exercise in my small confined space, but I also begin formulating a possible route of escape. The door entrances are the worst ideas ever, since Ozzy's shown to have armed guards around every corner. I could take my chances with the windows, but if I sprain or break anything, then I really won't be able to escape. And there's no way I can leave without both my weapons and the other doctors. Maybe that's what Ozzy's looking for, did he lose my weapons? Are they gone for good?

But as strange as it seems, there's always that part of me that doesn't want to escape. That part of me that truly loves him, however disgusting and repulsive he can be. Would it be that bad if I stayed?

But the doctors would never be free, and neither would I. What would I accomplish as his girlfriend? No, as happy as I might be with him, that's not my decision to make.

I hear the door open, and I get up and run to the front of the cell, but it's not Ozzy, it's Tracey and Candy,

"Well lookie here Candy, the boss's left little Trixie all by herself." Tracey taunts, taking out the key to my cell.

"Guess he got bored of you." she smirks, as Tracey hands her the key.

I cross my arms, "Are you two here to let me go?"

"Not yet." she sticks in the key and unlocks the door, "We're gonna give you a little departing present first."

She steps in and shuts the door behind her. Placing the key in the folds of her bra, she takes out a small pocketknife, flicking it up and letting it reflect against the light with her glasses.

I jump back as she slashes to the right, "Think you can waltz in here and steal my job? Penguin is mine!"

I use her moment of anger to grab her arm, kneeing her in the stomach, snatching her hair and throwing her against the cell bars, “I don’t want to steal your job, I don’t want to be here. If you let me go, I won’t endanger your job anymore.” I talk down to her as she slowly gets up from the floor.

“You ain’t getting off that easy.” Tracey pulls out a revolver and aims it right at me, “Get her Candy!”

She swipes at me with the knife, and I grab her arm, knocking the knife out of her hands, but right before my eyes flash the first bullet as it flies only inches away from my face,

“You’re gonna take your beating right proper.” she orders, pointing the gun.

I turn around to see Candy swinging, punching me in the chest. I stumble back, and she uses her shoulder to slam me into the cell bars. She grabs my forehead and knocks my head into the metal bars, blurring my vision and hearing. Candy winds up for a final blow, and my vision goes black.

 

Several years ago    

 

   Oswald and I return to his apartment, having fully formulated our plan. Oswald opens the door for me, but the first thing I see when the door opens is Mrs. Cobblepot sobbing in the living room. Oswald notices this too, and goes rushing to her,

“Mother! What’s wrong? Did-”

“Yes son, they came again.” she sniffles, pulling out a handkerchief to blow her nose.

He helps her up, “What did they take?”

I look around and realize that some things are missing. The china tea set that use to sit on the coffee table is gone, as well as some of the silverware in the display case.

“Who are these people?” I ask them.

“The landlords. We haven’t been able to pay rent so, so they take things. They...they took my wedding ring. How could they?!” Mrs. Cobblepot cries, as Oswald leads her to her room.

“It’ll be alright Mother, I’ll find a job, I’ll make us lots of money. You’ll never have to worry about money again, I promise.”

She nods, and enters her room, closing the door behind her. Oswald stands for a few seconds in front of her door, laying his head against it before getting up and sitting on the couch next to me,

“This is all my fault.” he blames, collapsing his head into his hands, “I should be looking out for Mother, not the other way around. She deserves better than this, she deserves to be treated like a queen…”

I place my hand on his shoulder, “Hey, you’re doing the best you can, if our plan goes accordingly, you’ll have plenty of money to support yourself and your mother.”

“I don’t know. I just...I feel like I’m not good enough for Mother, she deserves a better son.”

“And you can be that better son.” I assure him, “Remember, it is not in the stars that hold our destiny, but ourselves.”

 

Present day

 

   I come to, the taste of blood in my mouth as I see Candy standing proudly over me,

“Where’s Cobblepot now? Not going to come to the rescue this time, is he?” Tracey taunts, still outside the cage, “Say Candy, what’s that thing old Cobblepot’s looking for?”

Candy giggles, her head lowered and her tied up hair now disheveled and messy, “Oh...that cheap thing? Why he’d ever want to keep that thing around I’ll never know.” her painted nails scratch the metal bars of the cell as she grips one for support.

“Wha…” is all I can muster, my vision still wavering and my reflexes slowed considerably.

Candy reaches into her breast pocket and pulls out a small black box. She opens it facing her, “Huh, I mean, I’m not picky when it comes to diamonds, but this thing is peanuts.” she slams the box shut and just as she’s putting it away, I swing my leg out from under her, knocking her to the ground.

Tracey aims her gun, and I scramble over to Candy, grabbing her and getting behind her, using her as a human shield. Tracey freezes a

s soon as I hold Candy hostage, would she be willing to risk killing Candy to kill me?

“Go on...do it. Kill the bitch.” Candy eggs her on, practically begging her.

I frown, holding Candy by her throat, “Let me out and I let her go.”

Tracey pauses for a moment, before gesturing to Candy, who has the key. Still clutching her neck, I lead Candy over to the cell door. Fumbling slightly, she manages to unlock the door, and I push it open with my shoulder. I throw Candy to the ground,

“You have your wish, your boss, is all yours.”

I turn my back and walk to the door, half expecting to feel a bullet rock through my chest, but I know they won’t do it, after all, I am giving them what they want.

I open the door to see Ozzy standing right in front of me. I must have at least some bruises, because he gasps, “My dear...what happened?”

I point behind me to Tracey and Candy, “ They happened.”

He slams his umbrella on the ground, “Out. Now, both of you.”

The two girls scamper out the door. I try to make an exit along with them, but Ozzy grabs my wrist and pulls me to him,

“I’m so sorry my love, come now, let’s have you cleaned up.”

Just then, one of his guards comes in carrying Candy, “Boss, Candy here has-”

“I should’ve known.” he realizes, he strides over to her, and although his back is turned to me, I see him snatch the black box from her, “Considered yourself  fired .”

Tears well up in her eyes, her causing her mascara to run down her cheeks. Ozzy turns away from her coldly, “Get her out of here.”

“You’ll regret this Cobblepot, you’ll come crawling back to me when she’s up and left you again, you’ll see!” Candy vows as the guards drags her out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Ozzy takes my hand, and smiles jovially, “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can have some lunch. Tuna sandwiches maybe?”

 


	14. Enter Batman, Exit Penguin

   "Well, you've kept me waiting. What's the surprise for tonight Ozzy?" I ask him as he opens the door to the car.

He smiles, gesturing for me to go first, "Just a little longer my dear, you'll know soon enough."

With both of us in the back, the car drives off into the city.

I look out the window as the car drives through Gotham's downtown area, the bright night lights contrasting against the dark Gothic-styled buildings. Tonight I’m in a purple dress, down to my knees. Guess wherever we’re going, it’s too fancy for my usual Trickstress outfit. At least the dress goes well with my mask.

I feel Ozzy gently scoop up my hand and he kisses it, working his way up my arm until he reaches my shoulder. He then wraps his arms around my waist and looks out with me,

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

I nod, "Yeah...it sure is."

He looks up at me worriedly, "You're distracted tonight my love, tell me, what's wrong?"

Well, the fact that his two trannies beat me in my cell isn't helping things, but I least I got Candy's knife out of it. I have everything I need to escape. Now it's just a matter of time...but honestly, I don't want to. I'm dreading the moment I have to break his heart again, but I also know it's inevitable.

"That black box that Candy stole from you...that was your mother's wedding ring, wasn't it?" I hypothesize.

He kisses my cheek, "Now, now, don't spoil the fun for me. You'll find out soon enough."

He pulls me into a full kiss, his hands grabbing at my back and pulling me into him. He's scared. He's keeping me close, literally, he's worried I'll run out on him. My eyes still open, I see out of the corner of my eye the driver watching us from the rearview mirror, classy.

We arrive at the Gotham docks where a luxury liner cruise stands out in between all of the cargo ships. Well, I know he's not bringing me onto a cargo ship.

Holding my hand, he walks me over to the cruise ship, and on it's hull reads, "The Final Offer".

"How'd you come by this?" I ask him in amazement, as we board the ship.

"Somalian pirates.” he explains, “Converted her into a casino boat for Gotham’s highest rollers, but tonight it’s all ours.”

Of course it wasn’t through legitimate means, this is Ozzy after all. Still, as we enter the ship, the bright lights and refined decor mesmerize me. Behind us, the driver quickly changes from his chauffeur suit into a waiter’s vest. He’s certainly keeping staff to a minimum here. Does he not trust his other henchmen? Probably not, for all he knows, they could be spies sent by Amanda.

The ship sets sail on the Gotham bay as we’re seated at a lone table for two. The waiter lights the single candle in between us, and Ozzy puts one elbow on the table to rest his head on his hand,

“You know something?” he asks, his eyes droopy and loving behind his monocle, “Before I met you, I’d never had anyone pay so much attention to me. Well, except for Mother of course. You know, you remind me of her quite a bit.”

I smile, “So you’ve told me.”

He reaches his hand out and places his other hand on mine, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Oh, that’s incredibly cheesy...but incredibly effective, damn you Ozzy, I’m blushing. I know what’s coming next, but please, please prove me wrong.

The captain of the ship, this I can only assume by the uniform he wears, walks out of one of the side doors in the ship and over to Ozzy. He whispers a couple of words into his ear before leaving hurriedly out the same door he came in.

He lifts my hand up, and by association, the rest of me, and leads me away from the table. I smile, “What, no dinner?”

“No my dear, I’m afraid there isn’t any time for dinner tonight. We’ve too much to do...too much to discuss.” he tells me, as he leads me further into the ship.

We descend a flight of stairs leading to a glistening casino room, and then another leading to the ship’s lower deck, where a special reinforced door awaits us.

“Where exactly are we going?” I ask, as Ozzy leads us into the door resembling that of a meat locker.

“Patience, darling.” he warns, his tone darkening slightly.

I grasp his hand tightly, “Dear, there’s something wrong, I can tell. Please, tell me what’s bothering you.”

He shakes his head, “My captain spotted that several of the usual crew members are absent without reason. It’s nothing, really, I just figured that we should continue our activities away from the ship.” he reaches over and wraps his hand around my lower head and neck, “Now, don’t worry your pretty head with such things. You are having a good time, aren’t you?”

I kiss him on the cheek, “Of course I am.”

He sighs joyfully, his shoulders slouching slightly, “At long last...love.”

The metallic door opens to reveal a dark flight of stairs. We come down to a deck of sorts, with rounded windows displaying the somehow still relatively blue Gotham bay.

I’m suddenly having trouble finding words, “Is this…?”

“I’m taking you on a tour of the Gotham bay.” he explains, walking over to the controls at the front.

I look out one of the windows, and see that the submarine has two flipper-like plane wings specifically painted black and white. Looking to the front, the outside front of the submarine also has a distinctive yellow nose. So...the submarine’s built and painted to look like a penguin? Even for Ozzy, that seems like a bit much.

Ozzy puts the submarine on some kind of autopilot before stepping away from the controls. He walks over to me and puts his hand on my shoulder as we look out at the underwater bay, the city’s night lights glimmering down from above.

“I’m surprised there’re still any fish here.” I observe, watching a small school of fish swim by.

“Under that ugly exterior, you may find something beautiful.” he muses, rubbing my shoulder.

He releases his hand and reaches into his jacket, getting down on one knee. Oh no…

“Trixie, and it doesn’t matter that’s not your real name, I love you. I can’t help that and, and I know you love me too, however you try to hide it.” he presents the black box, opening it, reveals the diamond ring, “Please...marry me.”

Just then, a shadowy figure jumps out and tackles Ozzy, knocking him to the ground. Bounding back up, the figure’s dark cloak billows around him and he rises,

“Ms. Kawacatoose, are you alright?” he asks, his expression hidden by his cowl.

“Batman...why did you save me?”

He grabs my wrist and holds up a vial of blood with his other, “You placed tracking microorganisms into my bloodstream. I need them out.”

Out of the corner of my eye, Ozzy slowly gets on his feet, wielding his umbrella, “You...you again and again and again!” he opens fire on the both of us, and Batman throws his cape over me, shielding me.

The cape falls to reveal that the bullets had no effect on either him or me.

“Look where you’re blindness has led you to Cobblepot...you’re a lovesick fool.” Batman retorts, leading me out of the submarine.

“What would you know about love Batman? And besides, you can’t leave! We’re thirty feet underwater! You can’t escape!” he declares, reloading his umbrella.

Batman throws a batarang at his umbrella, knocking it from his hands, “It’s over, Cobblepot.”

“Trixie, baby, stay with me, please, I’ll do anything. Just please...don’t leave me to my solitude.” he begs on his knees desperately.

Of course I want to stay with him, he’s right, I love him. But there will always be something fundamental between us, and that’s the law.

Batman hands me some sort of facial mask as he puts on a modified version of it on himself. I look back at Ozzy, and I want to run into his arms, promise him I’ll be there for him forever. But I can’t, I won’t.

“It’s for the best my love.” I tell him, my tone melancholy before putting on the mask as Batman opens the submarine door, flooding the floor with water, and pulling the both of us out, shutting the door before too much water gets in. He pulls me up to the surface, the mask giving me just enough air to breath. We reach the surface, and he pulls me up onto the docks, my dress now soaking wet. He helps me up, rather gentlemanly for someone who I inflicted with tracking microbeads.

“You did the right thing back there.” he states.

Even though his tone is gruff, cold, and monotone, I sense there’s some sort of mutual understanding in that line. Perhaps he’s fallen for some criminal before, wonder who?

“Love is never easy, is it?” I reply, getting up, “So, you want the tracker out?”

“Yes, and I know you can do it. In return, I’ll give you these.” he reaches behind his back and pulls out my Trickstess outfit, as well as my sack of marbles and daggers.

“Fair enough. You kill the microorganisms in the beads with an electric shock. I was able to do it with one of my marbles, but they’re unmarked, so which ones do that is my best gue-”

“It’s this one.” he concludes, pulling a random one out and handing everything else to me.

With his hand, he crushes the marble, sending blue streaks of light coursing through him. After a couple of seconds, it stops, and Batman, completely unfazed by the shock, pushes a few buttons on his arm, and a holographic screen pops up, showing a heart monitor as well as some other information. Man, this guy has it all.

“Did it work?”

He nods, “Thank you.”

There’s an awkward pause, “Well...aren’t you going to arrest me?” I ask.

“I know you work for the government.” he explains.

“Ah.” I look down at my outfit and equipment, everything's in order “Well, thank you ver-” I look back up and he’s disappeared. Must not be a social guy. **  
**


	15. Night of the Trickstress

Several years ago

   Oswald and I dash into the apartment, slamming the door behind us,

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe we did it! We got the diamond!” Oswald practically squeals.

Holding a small bag, I press my index finger against his lips, “Don’t broadcast it to the world, who knows, someone could’ve followed us here.”

Oswald nods, “But...if they did, couldn’t you do what you did back there? You’d...you’d take care of them, right?”

I hesitate, “...yes, of course I would.” that’s a dangerous promise, but in this moment, it’s something I know I have to make.

We sit down on the couch, and I unwrap the bag to reveal the large diamond, shining brightly even without a sufficient light source to reflect off of.

“We should get this on the black market, sell it to the highest bidder.” he suggests.

I nod, “I know a guy we can go to, haven’t seen him in a while though, hopefully he’s still in the business.”

“A dealer of some sort?” he asks.

I nod, he nods as well, “Probably.” we say simultaneously. We both start cracking up, neither of us having anticipated we’d second guess each other. As our laughter slows, we wind up facing each other, our faces close enough so that his nose is nearly touching mine. He leans in...and I lean in, and we kiss, his nose awkwardly grinding against my right cheek.

“Oh...I’m...I’m sorry.” he apologizes meekly, shying back.

I carefully set the diamond down on the coffee table, I shouldn’t be doing this, I could get into so much trouble with Amanda, consorting with the enemy. But then again, technically I’m not working for  the government anymore, and when have I ever had a shot at something like this? I’d never thought it was possible.

Tilting my head to the left to avoid his nose, I lean in, instigating another kiss. He responds immediately, wrapping his arms around my waist as I wrap mine around his shoulders. We pull each other closer, enjoying the comforting warmth of each other’s embrace.

Finally, I pull away, wiping his saliva off of my lips. Oswald stares at me in disbelief, but also with a naive sense of joy, “I’ve...I’ve, never kissed anyone before. Well, except for Mother of course but...never like that. Does this mean..?”

“I don’t know…” I admit.

“Well, I mean, don’t you like me? Because...I like you.” he confesses, leaning into me as I stare out the window, pondering.

“Yeah, I do, but it’s not about that. I...I don’t know if a relationship between us would work.”

He turns me towards him, taking my hands into his, “Well, how will you know for certain if you don’t try?”

How could I even begin to answer that question?

Present day

   I’m unable to make it back to the Iceberg Lounge before Ozzy and his men do.  Why exactly,  am I going back to the exact same place where I’d just be held captive? Well, it’s because Dr.  Leland and Whistler are still trapped in there, because of me no less, and I need to get them out, one way or another.

I peer through the back window of the lounge, at an angle where I can see Ozzy’s high up balcony view. He’s by himself at the table, devouring what appears to be an entire pile of raw fish, and a bottle of wine. So he’s problem eating again,

“Need some help there?” a young male voice asks from behind.

I whip around, wielding my knives, ready to attack, but I see the person approaching me is. “Robin? What’re you doing here?”

“Well, Bru-...I mean Batman sent me here to help you rescue those doctors from the Penguin. He said he’d come himself, but something came up. Something about Joker trying to blow up the city-”

“Again.” we both groan simultaneously.

“Well, so far, I haven’t been making any progress. All the doors are secured with guards everywhere, I haven’t even been able to get a good scope of the place since I’m always on my toes.” I explain.

He reaches into his utility belt and pulls out a grappling gun, “Who needs doors? C’mon, I’ll get us in there.” he extends a hand to me.

I cautiously take his hand before he shoots the grappling gun up, waiting for it to latch onto a roof fixture above before retracting the hook, sending us up.

“So...which Robin are you?” I ask him.

He gives me a funny look, “Wha....what do you mean?”

I roll my eyes, “C’mon, everybody knows there’s more than one Robin. Batman always stays the same age while every now and then you become a kid again, or a girl, or disappear altogether.”

“True.” he realizes, “I’m...uhm...the current one.”

“Fair enough.”

We reach the top and Robin runs over to the skylight and looks down. We’re directly under the restaurant, with Ozzy’s balcony being only a couple more feet away.

“We can’t risk detection. If they know we’re here, Ozz-I mean the Penguin, can give the order to assassinate the hostages.” I tell him as he carves a hole in the glass.

He nods, taking out the detached glass, “No sweat, Batman and I’ve done this kind of thing a million times over. He’s probably keeping them in the catacombs under the Iceberg Lounge.”

There’re catacombs under the restaurant? That...that actually sounds about right. It’s probably where Ozzy practices his singing.

Robin shoots a wire that connects from one end of the restaurant to the other. Jumping down through the hole in the glass, he grabs the wire and balances on top of it. I follow suit, dropping down. My feet miss the wire, and it hits my side, and I bounce off of it. I grab the wire with my hands at the last second, hanging on for dear life. Looking down, I see Ozzy stuffing his face with his fish. I climb back onto the wire, my feet balancing on it.

“Close call.” Robin whispers as we make our way toward the side of the wire  further into the restaurant.

As we reach the end of the wire, we both stop dead in our tracks when Ozzy starts yelling,  “Garson, more wine!” he gets up and throws his current bottle off of the balcony, letting it smash to the ground below. He plops down back into the chair, “As you may know boy, I’m not in a very good mood tonight, so you better make it quick.”

Out of the balcony entrance, two mobsters  in suits appear, “Boss, she was just some broad, you can get a new one, rehire Candy even, you know she’ll take back the job even if you pay her peanuts, what with her mother and all-”

‘Fools! What would you know, you’ve never known love, look at the work you’re in.” he criticizes, as the waiter brings him another bottle of wine. Forgoing a glass, he pops open the bottle and chugs down half the bottle in one fell swoop, knocking it back onto the table as he finishes. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the small black box and opens it, brushing the edge, “One day Trixie...you’ll see, see how happy we could be...together.”

Robin suddenly taps on my shoulder, “Ohm...Ms. Trickstress, ma’am? We need to get going,”

I can’t believe I was watching him all that time. I wipe away a single tear before nodding, continuing to walk across the tightrope line. We reach the end and drop down right under Ozzy’s balcony, just out of his sight. However, Ozzy sees two shadows pass through the bright lights of the empty lounge, and he gestures for his two men, “She’s here, have a couple of extra men guarding the doctors, will you?”

He walks up to the front of the balcony as Garson gets him a mike usually used for restaurant announcements, “Trixie love, I know you’re out there. You can’t hide from me. If you’re here to accept my proposal, just step out now and no one gets hurt.”

I seriously consider coming out of the safety of our hiding place as we slowly shimmy around Ozzy’s balcony, making for a side door. I look behind me and I see Robin is shaking his head profusely. Clearly he doesn’t agree.

“TRIXIE, I KNOW YOU'’RE OUT  THERE, SAY SOMETHING NOW OR  THE HOSTAGES DIE!”

“I’m here.” I state clearly, hoping my voice will bounce off of the walls and not give away our location.

He chuckles maliciously, “Come out my dear, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I disagree.”

“If only that silly old Batman didn’t interfere, you’d of had to say yes, wouldn’t you? Well, Batsy ain’t here right now, is he? I sent out a fake bomb threat, you can frame the Joker for anything. So, while he’s occupied, how about you and I get to our unfinished business?”

“I’m just here for the doctors Ozzy, you know you and I would never work.” I tell him as Robin and I reach the door.

“You lie! It was so wonderful, these past few days. We were together, just as we should...why can’t the rest of our lives be that wonderful?”

Robin rolls his eyes, “Holy Romeo, give it a rest Penguin.”

He snarls, “Of course, the Boy Wonder, Trixie, honestly, I wouldn’t think you’d stoop this low as to date someone so young and immature.”

I practically gag at the thought as we slip through the door. Now unable to hear or speak to him,  we pick up the pace, making our way to an elevator. Robin presses the button, and we wait for it to arrive,

“I uh...don’t want to pry but...you dated the Penguin?”

I sigh, it’s really none of this guy’s business, but, he is helping me to rescue the doctors, and there isn’t really much else I can offer him, “A long time ago, he was very different back then, a lot thinner for starters.”

“Oh…” he mumbles as the elevator door bells chimes.

The door opens to reveal Ozzy and several of his men, all armed with guns. Ozzy points his umbrella forward, “Waste ‘im boys.” **  
**


	16. Past the Point of No Return

  Robin throws something on the ground just as Ozzy’s men all begin firing at him. Smoke billows through the room, and I see Robin’s visage running in the opposite direction.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Ozzy declares, jumping out through the smoke and tackling me to the ground.

“Run Robin!” I tell him, making sure he doesn’t try to come after me.

The smoke clears, to reveal that Robin’s disappeared. Grabbing my arms, Ozzy pulls me to my feet, keeping my hands behind my back,

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you? Thinking you can play with me one more time.”

“I never intended to trick you Ozzy, just free the doctors.”

He shakes his head, “No, that’s exactly why I kept them around. I knew you’d come after them, you can be so predictable sometimes.”

I snarl at him, but he just pulls me into a kiss, and I nearly gag as I taste raw fish and wine on his lips and tongue.

“Come, you wanna see the poor doctors? I’ll show you where they are.” he assures me, taking my hand and leading me into the elevator.

None of his men follow us into the elevator, as Ozzy opens a secret compartment in the elevator and inserts his umbrella into a keyhole. The elevator closes, and begins descending. I look up, if this elevator is up to fire code, then there should be an escape door hidden in one of the rooftop panels. I could escape through there. Ozzy sees my eyes wandering, and he pulls me closer to him, letting my head rest on his shoulder. Or I could just do that. Besides, if he really is going to take me to the doctors, it’ll be the perfect opportunity for me to rescue them.

The elevator opens up to a dark sewer, with dimly lit wax candles serving as the only source of light. In the middle of the sewer water stands a boat shaped like a yellow rubber duck. Okay, the penguin submarine was reaching, but this is too much.

Ozzy walks up to the boat and gestures for me to board. I do so, and he follows, taking out a large rowing oar and beginning to push down the sewer.

“Don’t be worried about running into any unsavory characters here. I’ve had this place sanctioned off from the rest of the Gotham sewer line for quite some time now.” he assures me, looking down at me as he rows.

We approach misty waters, and Ozzy puts down his oar, letting the natural current carry us the rest of the way. He sits down next to me and, not saying another word, grabs me and pulls me into another kiss. Why don’t I pull away? Why do I let him take me as he does? Why do I...enjoy his warmth, his touch, even as his possessive embrace practically squeezes me to death and his breath is horrid?

I pull away as the mist clears and reveals a cryptic hideaway, guarded by an iron wrought gate and many, many wax candles. Dr. Leland and Whistler both hang from the ceiling, bound upside down and facing the dirty waters below. Their bodies and tied up completely, and their mouths are gagged as well. Ozzy pulls his boat up to the stone landing, and pulls me out of the boat as I stare in awe at the doctor’s predicament,

“How long how they been bound like that?” I ask him.

“Ever since I captured them, the boys come down here to feed them every now and again.” he walks over to a lever and pulley system, with two levers representing the two doctors, “And sometimes, I do this.” he pulls one of the levers and  Dr. Leland is dunked into the water, her entire body submerged. I run to rescue her, but as soon as I get to the shore Ozzy pulls the lever again and Dr. Leland comes rising back up. He chuckles, “Fun, isn’t it?”

“Not to me.” I counter, crossing my arms.

He frowns, but then he smiles again, only this time the smile is malicious, “But that’s not all…” he pulls both of the levers at the same time, and both of the doctors plunge into the murky waters. Only by pulling the heavy levers again are they unsubmerged.

“I was hoping I’d never have to use this as a tool against you, but you leave me no choice.”  he growls lowly, keeping both of his hands on the levers, “Sure, if I really tried to kill them, you could save maybe one...but definitely not the both of them. At least one of them would have to die.”

“So what? You’re asking me to choose?” I ask him, seeing the horrified expressions on the doctor's faces.

“It doesn’t have to be a choice.” he tells me, climbing down from the levers are approaching me, “Vow your life to me, and I let these nice doctors go.”

He takes my hand, and kisses my cheek, before placing the ring into my hand, and closing it. My breathing accelerates, throw my life away for two women I hardly know? The logical side of me tells me to forget them, but, even if I were to refuse, would Oswald ever stop? As much as I’d like to think he would, the part that knows him, also knows that he wouldn’t. And...and there’s something else too. I...I want this. I want him, as much as I hate myself for it.

Taking the ring, I place it on my finger. Sparks fly in Ozzy’s eyes, and he grabs me and lifts me, spinning me around, “Oh my darling, I knew you loved me all along, it just took the right push.”

My eyes begin reddening, “Please...just let them go.”

“Not quite yet dear, we’ve got a wedding to plan!” he declares, putting me down, grabbing my hand and rushing me back to the boat.

A black batarang comes flying out of no where, hitting the rubber duck boat and deflating it, sending it into the waters below, “Your time is up Penguin!”

I look up and see up on the details of the catacombs is, “Robin!”

Ozzy aims his umbrella and fires at Robin, who runs across the detail, and throws two more batarangs, each of them flying across the catacomb and cutting the ropes attaching the doctors to the ceiling. They both go crashing into the waters,

“Ha! Look what your precious Boy Wonder has done now! Now the doctors will die!” Ozzy declares.

I rip myself out of Ozzy’s grasp and charge for the waters, while Robin prepares to dive from the detail, “You forgot Penguin, now there’s two of us.”

We both dive in at the same time, Robin going after Dr. Leland and I going after Dr. Whistler. I try to keep my eyes open as I spot Dr. Whistler sinking to the bottom of the sewer. I grab her at the waist and pull her up to the surface, bobbing up and tasting some of the disgusting sewer water in the progress.

I look to my right and see Robin is pulling Dr. Leland out of the water, and to my left, a dejected Ozzy, defeated again.

I help Robin untie the doctors, “I’ll be right back, I’ve got a small rowboat I used to get here. We can use it to escape.”

I ungag the doctors. Both of them in shock, Dr. Leland starts screaming, “What?! Aren’t you going to arrest that monster!”

Robin looks over at Ozzy, who has his head bowed down and buried in his arms as he sits on the steps, “Yeah...we’ll get to that.”

He dives into the waters and swims out, leaving me with Ozzy and the doctors.

“Hang on, where’s Dr. K?” Dr. Whistler asks.

“We found her in another catacomb, she’s already up on the surface.” I lie.

Ozzy chuckles, which turns into a eruptious laughter, frightening the doctors.

“Couldn’t you...tie him up or something?” Dr. Leland asks.

I grab the ropes that’d bond the doctors and bring it over to Ozzy, “Alright, are you going to make this easy or difficult?”

He looks up at me, his eyes large and puppy-like, “Trixie, I love you.”

I sigh, approaching him, and getting down on one knee. I take his hand, and give him back the ring, but he pushes it away, “No, keep it. It’s yours...I’m yours.”

I pull Ozzy into a tight hug and whisper into his ear, “Oswald Cobblepot, in another lifetime, we’d be perfect for each other.”

I let go as Robin returns with a wooden rowboat. I tie Ozzy up to one of the stone columns in the catacombs before boarding the boat with him and the doctors.

I watch, solemnly, as we sail off into the waters, feeling a single tear fall to my cheek.


	17. The Riddler's Reform

   I jump a little ahead of Robin and the doctors in order to change my appearance. Reaching the exit of the catacombs, I throw off my Trickstress outfit and put on an Arkham Asylum uniform  and long brown-haired wig left for me on the steps. I have no idea where this came from, but  I don’t exactly have time to question that right now. Concealing my previous outfit, I huddle myself in a corner, trying to look shocked and scared.

When the doctors reach the entrance, they run and hug me, “Oh, thank goodness you’re alright Dr. K.”

I nod, smiling, “It’s great to know you guys are okay too. What did he do to you?”

“We’d ask you the same thing.” Dr. Whistler replies, “He tied us up in his dungeon, so I couldn’t imagine what he did to you.”

I pause, thinking of something believable, “He...forced me to work as one of his dancers in his nightclub.”

They nod understandably, and we continue to leave the Iceberg Lounge. We escape practically unchallenged, which seems odd for Ozzy. Shouldn’t he at least have some guards around?

Outside, it’s early morning in Gotham City, but the sun is no where to be found, completely hidden in a thick blanket of dark clouds.

“I’m not as good with the whole disappearing act as Batman but, this is where I leave you ladies.” he waves.

Dr. Leland and Whistler both wave to him, and I approach him, “Thank you Robin.” I hug him unabashedly. It must have been him who’d left me the uniform, so he must also know my secret identity.

My heart races as his head leans down and nuzzles into my hair. Okay, so he does know, but while he certainly isn’t child Robin, I’m not looking to start anything right now. I back off, smiling as he shoots up his grappling hook and it takes him off into the early morning sky.

   The guards welcome us back to the asylum with applause. Of course right after what should’ve been a traumatic experience for the doctors, the first place they head to is right back to work, these kinds of things are just too common in Gotham to really take seriously anymore. I sit in my room at Arkham Manor, catching a break before heading back to my first day of work. I put my Trickstress costume back into the hidden sleeve of my suitcase, along with my daggers. Hopefully I’ll never have to bring those things out again, but then again, I know that’s sort of inevitable, why else would I keep it around?

As I sit down on the bed, there’s a slight rustling in one of my pockets. I reach in and find a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, I gasp as I see it’s a black and white picture of me and Ozzy in front of Angelo’s, just after we’d bought it, Ozzy’s arm around my shoulder, me in his mother’s dress that she’d given to me. He’s still young here, still retaining jet black hair and a thin figure. There’s some writing on the back and I flip it over,

You’ll always be the light in my life, but our lives were never meant to be intertwined as I’d hoped. Now be free my bird, be free.

I place the picture on my dresser as I hear a knock on the door. I open it to see an unmasked Edward Nigma standing in a doctor’s lab coat.

“Mr. Nigma, what’re you doing here?!  Get back to your cell right now before I call security!” I demand furiously.

“Doctor, please, you misunderstand. I’m a changed man, reformed, shall we say.” he explains calmly, smiling in satisfaction.

I narrow my eyes in suspicion, “Then what are you doing here at the asylum?”

“Why, I’m a consultant to you, and the other doctors as well. A criminal specialist, someone who knows these people inside and out.”

True, someone like him would know the inner workings of many of the patients here, having worked with many of them himself. But Mr. Nigma has tried going straight before, and they have all ended terribly. The time where he tried becoming a toy-maker comes to mind.

He adjusts his purple-tinted glasses, and I notice he’s dyed his hair black from the brown it was before, and he still has his fingerless green gloves under the sleeves of his lab coat. Of course even while “reformed” he keeps some elements of his signature costume, old habits die hard.

“Well. shall we be off?” he asks, smiling, “The other doctors are probably waiting for us. We wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”

I nod politely, leaving the room as Mr. Nigma closes the door.

   “Who the hell thought it was a good idea to hire this lunatic?!” Dr. Whistler angrily whispers to us while  Mr. Nigma keeps to the back.

“Asylum administration must’ve hired him while we were gone.” Dr. Leland figures, “Besides, we could use more help. Even with the three of us, we’re stretched thin among the patients-”

“But he’s not even a real doctor!” she spits, “And what exactly is he going to consult us on?! I find this highly offensive.”

“I can hear you two, you know.” Mr. Nigma comments from the back, looking up from his clipboard.

Dr. Whistler sighs, “Ugh, I don’t know what’s worst, him as a patient, or him as a co worker.” she straightens herself, maintaining a more professional appearance, “Anyway, Dr. K, would you be willing to handle a patient in Intensive Treatment today?”

My ears perk up. Intensive Treatment? Yes, this is exactly what I’ve been wanting this entire time, a good challenge. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, having Ozzy kidnap me.

“Of course I would.” I reply, trying not to sound too excited.

She holds her head with her left hand, “Wonderful. This patient is...well, I’m not exactly in the mood to be handling her right now. Strangely, she asked for you specifically.”

She did? I run my head through the list of Gotham’s criminals that I know and who would also know my secret identity, and my list comes up blank. Only Ozzy knows my secret identity, so unless he told it to someone else…

I part with Dr. Whistler and Leland as I head over to Intensive Treatment. Mr. Nigma however, follows me to the entrance. I notice all the security guards giving him suspicious looks as he shows them his identification card. Hey, if I was in their position, I’d do the same.

We say nothing to each other as we head to the elevator that will take us down into the main cell of Intensive Treatment. Mr. Nigma is being unusually quiet, right up to the moment the elevator doors close,

“So doctor, have you thought about what I'd said to you the last time we met?” he asks.

Technically, the last time we’d met I was Trickstress, and he had no idea it was me he was talking to. But the last time I’d talked to him as Dr.K, he’d ambly flirted with me in order to avoid any psychological process.

“I haven’t really had time to honestly. As you may recall, I was a little wrapped up.”

“Ah, yes, Cobblepot. That lunatic needs to wake up and realize that that girl has been using him.” he comments, both of his hands in front of him.

“You mean Trickstress?” I ask.

He nods, “Like the name suggests, she’s a manipulator, someone who takes what she needs and then leaves. She was never interested in him, not really.”

I feel a pang of pain in my heart. If only that were true...at least I wouldn’t feel terrible about the things I’ve done.

“So...who’s the lucky patient you’re going to interview?” he asks arching his eyebrow at me.

“Why do you want to know?” I counter.

“Because, I’m suppose to observe your interview, is why.” he explains, “I’d just like a little insight into whom I’m going to be looking at.”

I pause, “...Ms. Harleen Quinzel.”

He chuckles, “Oh ho ho...you’ve got your work cut out for you, haven’t you doctor? May I suggest bringing in an axe?” **  
**


	18. Mad Love

   I sit down in a small chair in a dark, empty room, pen and clipboard in hand. A blonde woman is wheeled in on an upright platform, strapped in a straitjacket. Two handlers set the platform down, leaving her strapped upright, before leaving the room and closing the door,

“So...you’re Dr. K, right?” she asks, her chirpy, pip-squeaked voice asking.

I nod, “Yes, that would be me. And I assume you’re Ms. Harleen Quinzel-”

“I’ll say it once, I’ll say it again, call me Harley, everyone does.” she states in a uniform, rehearsed manner.

I’ll take up on her offer, giving off a more friendly vibe by calling her by her preferred name, “Alright Harley, let’s start our first session with some backgrou-”

“Can it Trix, that’s not why I’m here to talk.”

I practically jump, dropping my pen and letting it fall to the ground, bouncing off of the tile floor. So she does know. I cross my legs, and narrow my eyes, staring at her intently, “Okay then, what do you want to talk about?”

“Why, about you and Cobblepot, what else?”

I sigh, “Ozzy and I are done. We both agreed to close that door-”

“Really Trix? Is that really it? You’re just gonna let it end...just like that?” she asks, tears welling up in her eyes, “I...I was honestly rootin for the two of you.”

I pick up my pen, and begin jotting notes down on my clipboard, “Harley, my romantic affairs are none of your business-”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you here.” she defends.

“I’m here to help you, Harley.”

She rolls her eyes, “How could you? How could you help me when you can’t even see a good thing if it kidnaps you and then treats you like a queen.” she sighs, “If Mister J were ever to do that to me...boy would I repay him…”

“But he wouldn’t...would he?” I bring up.

“That’s what I’m saying. You had a good thing going on with Cobblepot. And if I can fall for an absolute lunnie who treats me like dirt, you must feel something for him after all he’s done for you, right? I mean, you kept his mother’s ring, and I know you’re not going to throw out that old picture he gave you-”

I squint, “Harley...how do you know all this? Did Ozzy put you up to this?”

She shrugs to the extent that the straitjacket will let her, “He came to me after your first breakup. Guess he figured we had something in common, and the poor sap had no one else to turn to, and those two sluts he started keeping around were no help. So yeah, I consoled him, and we’ve kept in touch ever since, even offered him some pity sex once or twice, but he declined.” she smiles warmly, “Now that’s devotion, and you’re not even that much of a looker-”

“Your point?”

She clears her throat, “All I’m saying is, reexamine your choices. I know you’ve got this stuck up sense of justice, but it’s killing you from the inside, can’t you see? You’re miserable.”

I’d never really thought about that. Am I happy, doing what I do? My immediate answer would be yes, but closer examination would say otherwise. No, I’m letting a patient get under my skin, this session should be about her, but it’s becoming clear this isn’t really a session at all.

“Harley...are you happy with your choices?” I ask her.

She nods, “No regrets, whatsoever. That’s because I follow my heart, and my heart tells me Mister J is the one for me. Sure there are the occasional bumps in the road...okay, maybe more than a couple, but that’s the chance you take when you’re dating a nutso, am I right?”

“And, since you have acknowledged that the Joker is insane, why do you continue to follow him?”

“Well, see, that’s the thing. We’ve been spending more time apart lately. And that can be good too, you know? But in the end, we always find each other again, and everything goes back to just the way it use to be.” she explains, “But, that’s me and Mister J. You and Cobblepot on the other hand...well, he hasn’t trusted you since you first left him. So when he got his fat hands on you, you bet he was going to do anything to keep you there.”

I look up at the clock. The session’s over, and I’m not going to be getting anywhere with her anyway, “Alright Harley, our time’s up. Will I be seeing you next week?”

“Oh, definitely Trix, you need help, and I’m here to give it.” she declares boldly.

I nod slowly, “Uhuh.”

I open the door, allowing her handlers to come back in and haul her away. I follow behind, walking into the recording room where Mr. Nigma is already waiting for me,

“Mr. Nigma, would you please give me the audio tape for this session with Mr. Quinzel?”

He smiles knowingly, “...what tape?”

I smell burning plastic, and I look into the nearby wastebin to see a melting audio tape sitting among in the garbage. I return his mischievous smile, so we agree.

   I ride the elevator back up to the main courtyard with Mr. Nigma, his smile withstanding through the entire ride.

“Doctor, your first name is Natalie, correct?” he asks.

I nod, “Yes, why?”

His smile grows wider, and he taps his pen on his sharp chin, “That’s a lovely name. One...one I know I’ve heard before. But where? Oh, I need to answer this question…”

“Oh, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I reply sarcastically.

“Are you mocking me?” he accuses, shocked.

I chuckle, “Perhaps.”

His eyebrows pop, realizing something, “Oh yes, this came for you in the mail.” he reaches into his lab coat pocket and pulls out a standard white envelope. I take it, looking at him suspiciously,

“This isn’t going to blow up in my face I hope.”

He flexes the leather on his gloves, “...only if you want it to.”

Rolling my eyes, I open the letter, holding the envelope at a distance, and to my surprise, nothing happens upon its unsealing. Unfolding the letter within, I immediately recognize the cursive handwriting,

Dear Trixie,

   I know I promised to leave you alone, but I just couldn’t, you know me. I can’t get you out of my mind, and I fear this torture will never end. So it brings me release in knowing you’ll get this letter, I know you will, Eddie gets a bullet in the head if you don’t. While I do hope you write me back, tell me how things are with you, something tells me you’re going to chuck my letter into the fire without a second glance. You’ve always pursued your own freedom, and I should recognize that. But there’s still a burning feeling inside, something telling me that this isn’t how our story should end. I’m lonely without you my love.

Love,

Ozzy

I look over at Mr. Nigma who’s looking over my shoulder, reading along. He smirks gleefully,

“Tell me, which path did the crazy man take out of the woods?”

I roll my eyes, “The psychopath. C’mon, I’m a psychiatrist, I’ve heard that one before.”

He sighs, “When will I find a riddle that you haven’t heard?”

And now it’s my turn to smile knowingly, “When you come up with some new material.”

I return to my room at Arkham Manor. I have about a twenty minute break until before I have to see my next patient. That should be just enough time.

I pick up the picture Ozzy gave me and find a small frame for it in my dresser. Placing it on the small desk by my bed, I sit down at the desk, getting out a fresh sheet of paper and a pen.

Dear Ozzy...

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Birds of a Feather](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432729) by [Tando](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tando/pseuds/Tando)




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